


Thirty Pieces of Silver

by procrastibator



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Dark, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Omega Dean Winchester, Rape Recovery, Sam Winchester-centric, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-09-23 14:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17081834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastibator/pseuds/procrastibator
Summary: The Road So FarFollows the events of Thirty Pieces of Silver by thatsakitkat"We don't want him talking like that to you anymore do we? You deserve respect, Sam. And as your Alpha brother, Dean won't ever be able to give you that. He'll keep you from killing Lilith. How bad do you want her dead, Sam?"This is an A/B/O Universe.NowTrigger warnings galore. THIS STORY IS ABOUT SAM and how he deals with his addiction to demon blood and the things he did to Dean, namely rape.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatsakitkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsakitkat/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Thirty Pieces of Silver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605425) by [thatsakitkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsakitkat/pseuds/thatsakitkat). 



> I've read Thirty Pieces of Silver by thatsakitkat several times (because I'm an emotional masochist). Every time I read it, I wish there were more of it. The story is beautifully written and it stands on its own, but whenever I think about this story I just want to know how they recovered from this. Sam cannot undo what he's done. He cannot say sorry enough and a fuzzy resolution is impossible. So...this story is about that. WIP and very angsty.

**The Road So Far**

Follows the events of Thirty Pieces of Silver by thatsakitkat

This is an A/B/O Universe.

**NOW**

Sam sits in the car and watches as Dean interacts with Sally, the Omega they’d rescued on this latest job. They’d come into town about two weeks ago on the trail of an Alpha turned werewolf. It happens sometimes. An Alpha allows themselves to become isolated from the world and without any sort of pack devolves to their ancestral and feral state. There had been a spree of Omega deaths in the area, all of them raped, bitten, and subsequently murdered.  It wasn’t their typical case, but Dean had insisted, and Sam was overzealous in his desire to appease Dean where possible. Dean asks Sam for so little these days, barely speaks to him most of the time.

He watches as Sally wraps her arms around Dean and holds him for several lingering moments. There are tears in her eyes and she’s whispering something into Dean’s ear. Sam’s chest pangs with a familiar ache. He hasn’t so much as brushed arms with Dean since…the incident. Dean nods at Sally’s words, let’s her go slowly and stares down at his feet. Sam can scent burnt coffee and matches in the air, knows it means Dean is experiencing sadness and anger. He knows it has to do with Sam. They were able to save Sally’s life, but they’d arrived too late to spare her from getting raped by the feral Alpha. Dean has been supportive of her in a way he’s only been toward Sam, back before Sam betrayed him. The pain in his chest cuts him deeper and his first thoughts are of getting more demon blood in him.

Dean scrubs at his cheeks with both palms before he turns and heads toward the Impala. The closer he gets to Sam, the angrier he looks. He yanks the door open and slides the key into the ignition in one, well-worn movement, and they’re off.  Sam doesn’t ask him what Sally said or why his face is blotchy. The car is pregnant with their silence.

Sam sighs. “Any idea where we’re going?” Dean just shakes his head and steps on the gas. “There’s not a whole lot going on right now. Angels are quiet, demons too…maybe we should lie low for a while. Take a break—”

“I don’t need a break, Sam. I need to work.”

“—It’s just that—”

“Sam.” Dean looks over at him briefly. He never looks at Sam for longer than necessary. He exhales. “Look, I get that you’re the Alpha.” There’s a tremor in his voice. “But if it’s all the same, I’d rather keep doing the job. I’m…not good when there’s no job.”

There it is. Dean doesn’t talk about what happened. He hasn’t mentioned anything about it to anyone, not Bobby or Cas. He doesn’t answer questions about the mating bite on his neck or how he went from Alpha to Omega. He never says the words out loud: Sam raped me. He doesn’t have to; it’s always there with them.  _“Guess I’m your bitch now,”_ he’d said. Sam will never forget the look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Sam grunts, “sure, Dean.” They drive on in silence across two states before Dean pulls into a motel parking lot and puts Baby in park. Sam sits up a little straighter and cracks his back across the seatback before he reaches for the door handle. “I’ll go and get the room.” He’s halfway out of the car when he hears Dean’s voice, monotone and gritty with disuse.

“You okay on your own for a while?” Dean’s knuckles pop as he grips the wheel.

Sam slides back into his seat. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Dean growls. “’Sthat okay?”

Sam doesn’t like not knowing where Dean is at all times. His older brother is still capable of taking care of himself, he still walks, talks, and fights like an Alpha but…he’s not. He’s an Omega, Sam’s Omega, his mate, and whether it’s wrong or right, Sam can’t fight how he feels about Dean. “Dean. We’re in the middle of nowhere, Utah. This is a dry county. Where on earth are you planning to go?”

“I don’t have to tell you, Sam. I wanna go out. Alone.” His emerald eyes cut to Sam and the judgment in them is scalding. “Am I supposed to ask you for permission?”

 _Yes!_ Sam wants to shout. _Yes, you should ask for my fucking permission. I’m your Alpha._ The car fills up with the acrid scent of Sam’s anger which smells a lot like sulfur these days. “No,” he rumbles, “but I worry about you.”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah. You’re always looking out for me, aren’t you, Sammy?” He sniffs the air in the car. “You’re the one who knows what’s best for us.”

Sam wants to reach across the seat and strangle Dean. He wants to hold him down and exert His Will and his power over him. He wants to use his Alpha Voice and demand his Omega’s respect and acquiescence.  He wants to so badly the air crackles. He can do whatever he wants with Dean. No one, not even Dean himself could stop him. Sam knows it. He knows Dean knows it too. The scent of Dean’s fear blooms thick and cloying, saccharine and slick. It mixes with Sam’s sulfuric anger. Instantly, there’s guilt. Dean was never afraid of Sam before. He takes several deep breaths until the static electricity in the air recedes. “I’ll see you later, Dean,” he says with a calm he doesn’t feel. He uses his Alpha voice when he says, “Please be safe.” He doesn’t miss the way Dean shivers from head to toe as his inner Omega acknowledges his direct order.

“Fuck you, Sam,” Dean grinds out through his teeth, but he pulls away from the parking lot at a reasonable speed. Sam most likely robbed him of the satisfaction of peeling off.

*******

It’s late when Dean decides to come back to the motel. Sam left him a key at the desk and texted him the room number. Sam lies awake in his bed, feigning sleep, as his brother gingerly steps into the room and sits at the foot of his own bed to rifle through his duffle bag. Dean reeks of Omega, other Omegas, and lots of them. Sam wants to ask where he’s been, who he’s been with, and why he smells like he rolled on the floor of a brothel. He doesn’t smell other Alpha’s on Dean and that’s a relief. Sam can deal with a lot from Dean, he knows he deserves everything thrown his way, but he wouldn’t trust himself if Dean let another Alpha near him. It’s selfish, so fucking selfish, but it is what it is.

“Nothing happened,” Dean says, sober. “Nothing _could_ happen.” The pain in his brother’s voice lances something inside Sam. Dean can’t get hard for anyone but Sam and he’s marked so thoroughly there isn’t an Alpha that would dare lay a finger on him. Sam shouldn’t be relieved by these facts. He knows Dean isn’t.

“Where’d you go?” Sam whispers into the dark. It’s not an order.

Dean is silent for a long while. “There’s a group; Sally told me ‘bout ‘em. ‘Sfor Omegas who’ve—” The scent of burnt coffee blooms. “This last case…it got to me is all. Gonna take a shower and go to bed. Goodnight, Sam.”

Sam holds back tears as Dean grabs his toiletries and beats feet into the bathroom. He’s not allowed to comfort his brother, his mate. He’s not allowed to hold him and tell him he loves him and that he’d do anything to make this right between them. He’s not allowed to tell him how very sorry he is for what he did. He’s not allowed to get down on his knees and beg for Dean’s forgiveness. What Sam did…there’s no forgiveness. The only thing Sam can offer Dean is Lilith’s head, and Ruby’s, if he ever sees that cunt again.

Filled with renewed vigor, Sam gets out of bed, dresses, and snatches the keys to the Impala on his way out the door. He needs a fix and there’s always an unlucky demon around for him to snack on. He’s sacrificed everything to be strong enough to take Lilith down and he’ll be damned all over again if he doesn’t follow through. He’s going to keep this promise. He’s going to stop the apocalypse and get revenge for his brother.

 

**LUCIFER RISING**

Sam is not capable of accepting this reality. It’s—it’s not fucking possible. His entire body is screaming NO! NONONNONONONONONO NO! The moment won’t end; it stretches on and on, and he can see every fucked up thing he did to get here. The Devil is coming and Sam set him loose. He did it all for nothing. It was all…for nothing.

Sam had fallen into Ruby’s trap. Dean was in Hell. He was suffering and he’d done it to save Sam. How was he supposed to live with that? How was he supposed to breathe knowing the one person he loved most in all of Creation was being tortured by the very things they hunted? And there was Ruby, offering a solution, a chance to save his brother, his confirmed soulmate. He hadn’t even stopped to think of the consequences.

Then, miracle of miracles, Dean had come back to him. Yes, they were both Alphas, but what existed between them went beyond that.

Sam’s hubris makes him cringe to his marrow in retrospect. He’d been so sure of himself, that he alone could stop the apocalypse. Sam truthfully believed forty years in Hell had caused Dean to become weak. It’s horrifically laughable, putting Dean and weak in the same sentence.

Ruby had coaxed him expertly. “You can’t be two Alphas, Sam. You’re stronger than him. You guys should’ve fought this out years ago. If you had, Dean would already be your Omega. I know you love him, but this is bigger than all of us. You have to stop Lilith. You’re the only who can. Dean will understand. He’ll finally admit he was wrong not to trust you.” Sam had liked the sound of that: An Omega version of his already beautiful brother, staring up at him and delivering tearful apologies. Sam wouldn’t have made him beg; he’d have forgiven him instantly.

He’d poisoned his brother with hormones, changed him, stripped him of his identity—raped him. Dean’s transition from Alpha to Omega had been a cruel and violent affair, but it was the least of it. Sam had chosen Ruby over Dean. He’d done it again, and again, and again, and now he was here. He’d been the fucking stooge all along.

Sam stares dumbly at Ruby as she dances around the seal. He chokes on his words, “Why? W-why me?”

 

Ruby comes to kneel down in front of him. She strokes his hair.  “Because... because it had to be you, Sammy. It always had to be you. You saved us. You set him free. And he's gonna be grateful. He's gonna repay you in ways that you can't even imagine.” She’s probably never believed anything more. She probably thinks Sam should thank her.

 

There’s a loud crash and Sam turns in time to see Dean coming through the door with the demon-killing knife drawn. Ruby mocks him, tells him he’s too late. “I don’t care,” Dean growls. There’s murder in his eyes.

 

Sam stands and grabs Ruby from behind, holding her in place as Dean runs her through until she’s lifted onto the hilt of the knife. She flickers with light, then crumples to the floor, dead. Sam doesn’t spare a second to mourn her. His knees hit the cobblestones of the church floor and he stares up at Dean with all his sorrow written across his face and he begs. “I’m sorry,” he says. It means everything and it counts for nothing.

 

Light bursts from the blood seal. This is it. This is the end. Sam clutches at Dean’s shirt and Dean grabs onto Sam’s jacket as they stare into the light. “Dean,” Sam says, knowing these are his last words, “he’s coming.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Sympathy for the Devil**

 

They’re alive, Sam marvels. Dean is alive, and next to him, and for right now, they’re not fighting. Sam is sitting toward the center of the car bench, his side pressed against his older brother, tail firmly tucked, and Dean is allowing it. The Devil himself is loose but Dean is with him and Sam can’t help but be grateful for these last few blissful moments of existence. It’s going to be horrifying from here. Everyone is going to die. Because of Sam. The car reeks of self-loathing.

“Sam,” Dean barks and switches on the Radio. Dean has a way of imbuing his name with an endless amount of meanings. _We don’t have time for your pity party. Cut the shit._ Sam slinks down a little lower in his seat and presses deeper into Dean. The radio does nothing to assuage the awkwardness. Tonight is the night when news about terrorist attacks, nuclear tests, hurricanes, and earthquakes are all colliding around the globe. And why not? Lucifer has risen. Dean punches the radio off, eyes firmly on the road. 

Sam licks his lips, steady’s himself. “Dean, look—”

“Don’t say anything,” Dean stops him. He’s using his Big Brother voice. Sam could cry. “It’s okay.” _Liar, Dean. Thank you for lying to me._ Dean taps him on the thigh and makes eye contact for a second. “We just gotta keep our heads down and hash this out, alright?”

Sam swallows past the gratitude in his throat. “Yeah, okay.”

Dean gives him a forced smile and grips his knee to urge Sam to move over. “Alright, well,” Dean clears his throat, “first things first—How did we end up on Soul Plane?”

 _Work the case. Be a professional._ Sam sits up straight and puts his game face on. “Uh, Angels, maybe? I mean, you know, beaming us out of harm’s way?” He shrugs while Dean appears to mull it over.

“Well, whatever,” Dean says. “It’s the least of our worries. We need to find Cas.” Sam struggles not to flinch. The last person he wants to see is that Angel. Sam has seen the way Dean looks at Castiel, and it makes Sam want to die. Cas is the one who saved Dean. Sam is the one who destroyed him. He’s ruined everything, the whole fucking world.

“Do you think he’ll help us?” Sam says lowly. “Isn’t he with the angels?”

Dean takes a breath and sighs. “He uh…he’s the one who got me to you. Angel dicks had me trapped in one of those mystical greenrooms. Or you know,” he shrugs, “I’dda been there sooner.”

“Yeah,” Sam nods and looks away. _Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam -- a vampire. You're not you anymore. And there's no going back._

They arrive at Chuck’s house early the next day. If anyone can tell them what they’re in for it’s a Prophet of the Lord. The place looks like shit; glass, broken furniture, and blood are everywhere. They’re quietly making their way around the house when they hear a sound. They freeze and look toward one another, then the room. Nothing. Sam takes a step around the corner is struck in the head by a hard object. _Fuck!_ Sam stumbles back, hand to his head. “Geez! Ow!”

“Sam!” Chuck exclaims while holding a toilet plunger.

“Yeah!” Sam growls. Goddamn, his head hurts.

“Hey, Chuck,” Dean says. He tips his head toward the man like he was expecting to see him.

Chuck comes closer and stares at them in open awe. “So…you’re okay?” He prods at Sam’s head with a finger.

“Well, my head hurts!”

Chuck opens Sam’s eyes wide with two fingers and leans in for a closer look. “No, I mean—I mean, my—My last vision. You went, like, full-on Vader. Your body temperature was one-fifty. Your heart rate was two hundred. Your eyes were black!”

Dean’s head whips around to Sam. “Your eyes went black?” He looks defeated, like he’s the one who’s failed. Dean’s always thought of himself as Sam’s protector. Sam always thought it was an Alpha thing. He knows now it’s because Dean’s always loved him. Dean’s always been the better brother.

“I didn’t know,” Sam whispers. For an Alpha, he feels a lot more like a whipped pup.

Dean straightens and turns his back. “Where’s Cas?” Dean demands. He’s more Alpha than Sam will ever be. He takes everything, every soul crippling thing that happens to them up into his stride.

Chuck doesn’t pull any punches. “He's dead. Or gone. The archangel smote the crap out of him. I'm sorry.”

“You sure?” Dean asks, hopefully, “I mean, maybe he just vanished into the light or something.”

Chuck can’t take a fucking hint. “Oh, no. He, like, exploded. Like a water balloon of chunky soup.”

Dean turns away and braces himself against the back of the sofa. “Cas, you stupid bastard.” Sam can’t help but reach out and place a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Stupid? He was trying to help us.”

“Yeah,” Dean huffs, “exactly.” There’s no talking to Dean when he’s like this and Sam doesn’t have the right to tell him how to grieve.

“So what now?” Sam says. There’s something different about Sam, he can feel it. He feels more…human. He doesn’t know how to deal with it yet. Deferring to Dean had always been natural to him before Ruby and the demon blood. Strange how he didn’t realize he missed it until now.

“I don’t know,” Dean says. Sam stays quiet and close.

“Oh, crap!” Chuck exclaims. They both turn to look at him. “Angels.”

*******

Sam is rushing back toward the motel room. They are now on the run from Zachariah and the Host of Heaven. The only place that feels remotely safe right now is a small defensible position behind as many wards as possible. They’re after Dean and Sam is prepared to die before he lets that happen. He enters the small room and finds Dean loading weapons. “Heads up,” he says. Dean snatches the hex bag midair and examines it. “Hex bags. No way the angels will find us with those. Demons, either, for that matter." 

Dean looks begrudgingly impressed. “Where'd you get it?”

Sam’s stomach drops. “I made it.” He looks down.

“How?”

“I...I learned it from Ru…from Ruby.” He looks up at Dean from beneath his lashes.

Dean grunts and puts the gun down before he approaches Sam. He gets close, closer than he’s been of his own volition in nearly a year, and starts sniffing around Sam’s neck and shoulders. “Speaking of.” He walks a circle around Sam, scenting the air. “How you doing? Are you jonesing for another hit of bitch blood or what?”

Sam shivers. “I-it's weird. Uh, tell you the truth, I'm fine. No shakes, no fever. It's like whoever...put me on that plane cleaned me right up.”

Dean walks away toward the table they have in the room. When he speaks, it sounds like a sneer. “Supernatural methadone.” His eyes pin Sam to the spot.

“Yeah, I guess.” Now that they aren’t running for their lives or trying to find a place to hunker down, Sam is adrift. He’s never felt this much like a piece of maggot-filled excrement. He should have stayed dead after Cold-oak. He wishes with everything that Dean had left him dead. At least then, he would’ve died a hero, Dean’s brother. “Dean—” he chokes out. 

Dean turns his back. “It's okay. You don't have to say anything.”

Sam’s eyes fill with tears. “Well, that's good. Because what can I even say? “I'm sorry"? "I screwed up"? Doesn't really do it justice, you know?” He’s desperate to get the words out. “Look, there's nothing I can do or say that will ever make this right—”

  
Dean rounds on him and yells, “So why do you keep bringing it up?!” His chest rises and falls with his deep breaths. Sam can see in his eyes how much Dean loves and loathes him in equal measure. His brother hasn’t forgiven him. He never will. And still, his eyes soften when Sam falls silent. “Look,” Dean continues, softer, but still firm, “all I'm saying is, why do we have to put this under a microscope? We made a mess. We clean it up. That's it.” Sam nods. “Alright, so, say this is just any other hunt. You know? What do we do first?”

Sam knows he’s being treated with kid gloves. Maybe because Dean thinks he better keep an eye on his demon-blood junkie brother, maybe because he still cares; Sam appreciates it either way. “We'd, uh, figure out where the thing is.” He fakes a smile for Dean.

Dean nods, “Alright. So we just got to find...The Devil.”

*******

True to form, the entire day has been a shit-show. The Angels want the Apocalypse to happen as much as the demons. Bobby got possessed and may never walk again. Meg has resurfaced. Oh! And the Demons know where the Michael Sword, their only hope against Lucifer, is stashed. It’s been an epic day for failure. Sam’s not even surprised when he finds their dad’s lockup full of angels and dead demons.

Zachariah is smug and smarmy as usual. “I see you told the demons where the sword is.”

Dean snaps back, “Oh, thank god. The angels are here.” Sam takes a step up behind Dean, ready to fight. It’s a reflex to reach for his powers—but he has none.

Zachariah pities them with a laugh, “And to think...they could have grabbed it any time they wanted.” He waves a hand to close the door. Dean flinches and Sam moves even closer to him. They’re not taking Dean without Sam. “It was right in front of them.”

Sam has a sick feeling in his gut. “What do you mean?”

“We don’t have anything,” Dean barks.

Zachariah snickers. “It’s you, chucklehead. You're the Michael sword.” He inhales slowly, like a fucking creep, as Dean’s fear scent breaks through. Sam can feel him shaking, just the slightest bit. “What, you thought you could actually kill Lucifer? You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing? No. You're just an Omega, Dean, a bitch. And not much of one.”

Sam lunges for the angel's throat and finds himself thrown across the room into a heap of boxes with just a flick of Zach’s finger. “Dean!” he shouts. His brother is rooted to his spot and trembling.

“What do you mean, I'm the sword?”

“You're Michael's weapon. Or, rather, his...receptacle.” He leans into Dean’s personal space. “You’re good at being a receptacle, aren’t you, Deany baby.”

Dean takes his first step backward. “I’m a vessel? How? Why—why me?”

“Because you're chosen! It's a great honor, Dean.”

“Oh, yeah.” Dean huffs. His fear makes Sam struggle harder against the angels hold, but it isn’t helping. “Yeah, life as an angel condom. That's real fun. I think I'll pass, thanks.”

The angel steps close enough to Dean to touch shoes. He smiles. Sam shouts, “Get the fuck away from him! I’ll kill you if you lay a hand on him,” Sam yells.

Zachariah rolls his eyes at Sam’s words, but his focus is entirely on Dean. “Joking. Always joking. Well...no more jokes.” He raises one hand, fingers poised like a gun, and points them at Sam as he keeps his eyes on Dean, “Bang.”

Sam screams as both his legs are broken at the same time. “God!”

Dean whips his head around to look at him. “You son of a bitch!” He moves to rush toward Sam, and Sam raises a hand toward him. Zachariah pulls Dean back by his arm.

“Keep mouthing off, I'll break more than his legs. I am completely and utterly through screwing around. The war has begun. We don't have our general. That's bad. Now, Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?”

Dean sobs. His body is reaching for Sam, unable to get to him. He rounds on Zachariah instead. “How many of us are gonna die in the crossfire, huh? A million? Five, ten?”

“Probably more,” he replies. “If Lucifer goes unchecked, you know how many die? All of them. He'll roast the planet alive.”

Dean pauses at that. “There's a reason you're telling me this instead of just nabbing me. You need my consent. Michael needs my say-so to ride around in my skin.” He looks toward Sam. “Well, there’s got to be another way.”

The angel is exasperated, “There is no other way. It is written.”

Dean sniffs and straightens. “Yeah, maybe. But, on the other hand... Eat me. The answer's no.”

“Hmph. Then how about we heal you from...stage-four stomach cancer?”

“Dean!” Sam yells as his mate doubles over and spits blood out onto the floor. “You fix him! Now!” Dean shakes his head as he writhes against the dusty floor.

“No? Then let's get really creative. Uh, let's see how...Sam does without his lungs.”

Sam tries to pull in a breath only to realize it’s impossible. He can’t fight the panic of his body and he starts to convulse and kick out with broken legs.  His eyes are firmly locked with Dean’s and for the first time, he can see his brother really, truly, still loves him. 

Dean croaks out words passed bloody lips, “Just kill us.” He looks imploringly at Sam, and Sam nods. He’s ready. 

“Kill you? Oh, no. I'm just getting started.”

Suddenly, a blast of angelic light whites out Sam’s vision. When it clears, he can’t believe his eyes. It’s Cas!

 

*******

 

Sam and Dean high-tail it back to the hospital to check on Bobby and give him the update. As they make their way down the sterile smelling hallway, they can hear Bobby shouting at one of his doctors. “Unlikely to walk again"?! Why, you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!” The door bursts open and a doctor flees. “I'll use my game leg and kick your friggin' ass! Yeah, you better run!” Bobby acknowledges them when they enter. “You believe that yahoo?”

Dean shrugs, “Screw him. You'll be fine.” The three men stare at one another, acknowledging truths too awful to speak out loud.

Sam clears his throat, “So, uh, let me ask the million-dollar question. What do we do now?” Dean turns away.

Bobby sighs warily. “Well... We save as many as we can for as long as we can, I guess. It's bad. Whoever wins, heaven or hell, we're boned.”

“What if we win?” Dean snaps. Sam and Bobby both look at him like he’s lost his head. “I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their crap apocalypse. Hell, they want to fight a war, they can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. We kill the devil. Hell, we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves.” Sam’s chest swells with pride. It’s no surprise Dean is the ultimate weapon.

“And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?” Bobby gripes, but there’s a fondness in his voice too.

Dean shrugs in his confident, nonchalant way. “I got no idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, and I'll figure it out.” Sam’s had a love-hate relationship with his big brother’s swagger, but right now, Sam’s heart feels too big for his body. He smiles adoringly when Dean’s eyes fall on him. Dean even rolls his eyes like he used to. “Listen, you stay on the mend. We'll see you in a bit.”

Sam follows Dean out of the hospital with a spring in his step. If Dean thinks they can win, Sam is going down swinging. The right way, this time; shoulder to shoulder with this brother. “You know, I was thinking, Dean—maybe we could go after the Colt.” 

“Why? What difference would that make?” Deans says.

“Well, we could use it on Lucifer. I mean, you just said back there—”

Dean rounds on him in the middle of the parking lot, “I just said a bunch of crap for Bobby's benefit.” He glares at Sam like he’s an idiot. “I mean, I'll fight. I'll fight till the last man, but let's at least be honest. I mean, we don't stand a snowball's chance, and you know that. I mean, hell, you of all people know that.”

Suddenly, Sam _feels_ how stupid he is. How ridiculous he is to have assumed things might be okay at some point, to believe Dean could accept Sam as his brother again. “Dean…”

“I tried, Sammy.” Dean sounds fragile. “I mean, I really tried. But I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right. Because it's not. And it's never going to be. You chose a demon over your own brother—“ 

Sam has no words to describe the feeling of soul-crushing guilt that envelops him. He barely keeps himself from doubling over. “I would give anything—anything—to take it all back,” he pleads.

Dean’s emerald eyes are shiny with unshed tears. Regardless, Sam smells anger coming off of him rather than sadness. “I know you would, Sam. And I can smell how sorry you are. I know, I do. But, man...you were the one that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even—” He looks up toward the sky, seeking the words to say what Sam has never wanted to hear.

Sam takes a step forward and brushes his fingertips across Dean’s jacket. “What can I do?”

Dean pulls away from the ghost of his touch. “Honestly?” he says while looking into Sam’s eyes. “Nothing.” Sam nods a little, finds the ground with his eyes. Each word is like a knife slicing off a new piece of him. “I just don't...I don't think that we can ever be what we were. You know?”

Sam’s chest caves in on a closed-mouthed sob. He nods. He deserves this. He deserves all of this. He braces himself as best he can for the words he knows are coming next.

“I just don't think I can trust you,” Dean says with finality.

“Dean,” Sam half sobs before he can help it. He looks up from the ground. _Please. Don’t._ But it’s useless. Dean shakes his head and walks away, pausing at the trunk of the Impala to look back, then gets into the driver's seat.

Sam can’t take a single step toward the Impala, toward Dean. His heart is beating too fast. He’s trying to control his breathing, but he can’t help the deep breaths he’s taking; they’re the only thing he can do to keep from his face from crumbling and his self-pitying tears from rolling down his face. He turns his back and digs out his phone with trembling fingers instead.

 

_**Sam: Need to walk for a while. Meet you at the motel.** _

 

The Impala cranks up a few seconds later and Dean drives away, leaving Sam rooted to the spot. When he’s gathered himself just enough, Sam starts walking. There’s always a bar near a hospital, clever, Sam thinks, as he strides in, numb and empty. “Whiskey,” he says as he sits on the stool. He digs out a hundred dollar bill and sets it on the counter, “leave the bottle?” He makes eye contact with the Beta bartender who gives him a nod and takes the money.

“You coming from the hospital?” The bartender asks and pours two shots. He smiles for Sam’s benefit and picks up one of the shots. Sam nods. “Sorry for your loss,” he whispers and they knock back their liquor. He walks away before Sam can tell him no one died. It doesn’t feel true anyway.

Sam has no interest in examining his emotions. He drinks long and hard from the bottle until he has to stop and take a breath. He coughs a few times, unsure if it’s whiskey that went down the wrong pipe or tears that are finally breaking loose from his chest. He tips the bottle back up and swallows until it passes. The bottle is half empty by the time he goes back to using his glass. Whiskey isn’t really what he wants. “Hey,” he slurs. “You, uh…you got any matches?”

“No smoking inside,” the bartender says as he slides him a book of monogrammed matches from a bowl on the bar, “but there’s an area out back.”

“Don’t smoke,” Sam says. The bartender has is already talking to someone else. The place is pretty busy. People tend to drink when the world is falling apart. Sam thumbs off the heads of several matches and grinds them into a powder before he slides the mess into his drink. He swishes the concoction around in his mouth before he swallows. He might be clean, but he’s still a junkie.

It’s near closing time when Sam has to make his way to the bathroom. He’s a stumbling mess, careening around the other drunks on his way when he shoulders another Alpha by mistake. The other man looks up from some Omega’s neck. Sam wrinkles his nose. They stink like rut and heat. "Watch where the fuck you’re going,” the Alpha growls at Sam. 

Sam chuckles. “Yeah?” He sways on his feet. “Or what?” He giggles. The Alpha disengages from the Omega he was grinding against the wall to crowd into Sam’s space. He’s not as tall as Sam. Maybe, Sam thinks, he’s about as tall as Dean. “You gonna tish me a lesson?”

“You’re goddamn right,” the Alpha responds. There’s a small crowd growing around them.

“Hey!” The bartender barks. “Outside with that shit. You’re stinking up the place.”

Sam grins down at his challenger. Kicking this guy’s ass wouldn’t be a challenge. “Guess I better take you for a walk, doggie.” He’s not surprised when he’s grabbed by the collar and thrown out the back door into the parking lot. He sways on his feet, but he doesn’t fall. He takes a wild swing at the other Alpha and lands it across his face. That should be enough, Sam thinks, he can just let it happen now. 

Sam doesn’t raise his fists again. His goal is to remain standing as the blows rain down on him. He lets himself cry out when his nose is broken, revels in the endorphin release as tears, blood, and pain pour out of him. “Fu…fuckin’ pussy,” he taunts. “Shoulda…shoulda fought the Omega.” He gets a healthy knee to his ribs that takes him to the ground, followed by a kick to his stomach. Sam gropes across the dusty and pebbled ground, seeking purchase and oxygen.

“Come on, man,” someone says to the other Alpha. “He’s not worth it. Look at him. He pissed his fucking pants.” 

Sam closes his eyes and sobs in a vacuum. He isn’t worth it. He isn’t worth anything. He should just die. Right here. Right now. Covered in his own piss like the worthless sack of shit he truly is. Air finally rushes into his lungs and Sam takes several stuttering breaths. When he opens his eyes, he’s alone. Sam can hear them inside the bar, laughing, cheering for the winner. 

Time slips in and out while Sam remains on the ground. His mind becomes clearer as the pain becomes sharper, endorphins dwindling. Sam’s gotta get home at some point. This was a stupid idea, no matter how good it felt to finally be punished. He doesn’t want Dean to feel sorry for him, not that he would, but maybe, and then Sam would just feel worse. The worst part of all of it is that Sam is going to have to live with what he did until Dean tells him it’s okay to die. To die before then would be selfish. Sam has been selfish enough. 

“Cas,” he prays. “Please. Help me.” He curls up into a ball of self-loathing and waits.

When Sam makes it back to the motel, he’s been healed. He slips in as quietly as possible. His dick gets hard enough to pound nails when he scents Dean’s slick in the room. The TV is on and the pay-per-view menu is scrolling through the adult movies available for purchase. Dean is asleep next to an empty bottle of whiskey.

Sam trudges into the bathroom and stands under freezing water until long passed the point his erection disappears and his balls crawl up into his body. His tears scald his cheeks.

 

 

**Good God Y’all**

 

It’s a few days later, after War turns a town in on itself, after Dean learns how much Sam still craves demon blood. After Ellen, Jo, and Rufus learn how Dean became an Omega. After they learned there are three more Horsemen coming.

They make it out alive, but there’s a part of both of them that’s died anyway. Sam sits across a bench from Dean, like he has a thousand times. He memorizes Dean’s face. His brother has beautiful freckles. Sam wishes he hadn’t teased Dean about them when he was a kid. He just did it cause he knew Dean hated them, and Dean was too perfect to find actual faults.

Dean is holding up War’s ring. “So, pit stop at Mount Doom?”

Sam tries to smile, but what he has to say… “Dean—”

“Sam, let’s not,” Dean rolls his eyes. He’s so over Sam’s bullshit. It only affirms that Sam is making the right call here.

“No, listen. This is important. I know you don't trust me.” Dean doesn’t deny it. Sam was still hoping he would anyway. “Just, now I realize something. I don't trust me either.” That gets Dean’s attention and he looks up. Sam takes a deep breath and continues, “From the minute I saw that blood, only thought in my head...and I tell myself it's for the right reasons, my intentions are good, and it, it feels true, you know? But I think, underneath...I just miss the feeling. I know how messed up that sounds, which means I know how messed up I am. Thing is, the problem's not the demon blood, not really. I mean, I… what I did, I can't blame the blood or Ruby or...anything. The problem's me. How far I'll go. There's something in me that...scares the hell out of me, Dean. In the last couple of days, I caught another glimpse...”

Dean cuts him off, somewhat furious. “So what are you saying?

Sam steels himself. “I'm in no shape to be hunting. I need to step back, 'cause I'm dangerous. Maybe it's best we just...go our separate ways.”

For the first time in a long while, Dean reaches out to touch Sam. He puts his hand over top of his on the table. Sam hooks his index finger over Dean’s thumb. “Well,” Dean says, “I think you’re right.”

Sam strokes Dean’s thumb. “I was expecting a fight,” he whispers.

Dean sighs, “The truth is I spend more time worrying about you than about doing the job right. And I just, I can't afford that, you know? Not now.”

Sam nods, “I’m sorry, Dean.” He’s not asking for forgiveness this time. He just wants Dean to know.

“I know you are, Sam.” He pulls his hand back and reaches into his pocket. Sam stands up. “Hey, do you, uh, wanna take the Impala?”

Sam is seconds away from falling apart, but he holds it together. He wants Dean to remember him as the man he raised; someone who doesn’t back down from the hard stuff. “It’s okay.” He shakes his head. “Take care of yourself, Dean.” 

Dean bites the inside of his cheeks. “Yeah, you too, Sammy.” He hasn’t called him that since before Ruby. Sam walks away before he can change his mind. He grabs his backpack out of the back seat of the Impala and walks over to a pickup truck parked nearby. He offers the guy all the money in his wallet for a ride to wherever he’s already headed.

He watches Dean until he can’t see him anymore.

He feels absolutely nothing anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. I'm adding the tags: self-harm, and suicidal thoughts. 
> 
> Your comments and kudos feed me the inspiration to keep working on this piece. Thanks!

Sam takes several rides before he realizes he’s on his way to Bobby’s. It’s ingrained in him to head back to Home Base, wait for Dean, and figure out their next move. It dawns on him acutely that he hasn’t just lost Dean, he’s lost, everyone. They all know by now. They know he’s a demon-blood addict who raped his own brother so he could run off unimpeded to start the fucking apocalypse! Sam jolts upright in his seat and starts to hyperventilate. It’s the end the world. The Devil is out. The Devil! He’s going to die and go to Hell. He’ll never see Dean again.

 

“What’s wrong, man? You havin’ a fit or somethin’?” asks the trucker giving Sam a ride. He rolls down his window to air out the cab. “Jesus, reeks in here.

 

“I’m…sorry…so sorry. Just, uh, just drop me off at the next truck stop.” Sam rolls down his own window to get the air circulating. He tries to keep his breaths deep and steady. It’s never a good idea to look weak in front of another person.

 

“It’s alright. I jus' weren’t expecting it is all. You, uh…you serve?” He asks cautiously. “I know alotta guys who served, who got a hard time movin’ on. No shame in it.” He grunts and keeps his eyes firmly forward.

 

Sam never knows how to answer this question, so he tells the truth as best he can. “Not Iraq or Afghanistan, but…I’ve seen some things no one should see. And I’ve done some things…I’ll always be ashamed of.”

 

“Well,” the trucker grunts, “ain’t one of us perfect. A soldier gets asked to do terrible things for the greater good. That’s why it’s a sacrifice. But you know, God forgives. He forgives us for all our imperfections. He loves us just the way we are.”

 

Sam’s throat feels like it’s closing up again. He shuts his eyes and nods, looks away toward the window so the night air can keep his eyes dry. He used to pray all the time when he was a kid. He would stay up for hours, praying up at the ceiling that God would keep Dean and his dad safe, that they would come home. Sometimes he would pray to God, just to tell Him how his day had gone. He would pray for forgiveness. He would pray for protection. He would pray to say how grateful he was to have someone like Dean. And the whole time….

 

Sam no longer has the luxury of prayer. He knows God isn’t listening. Not even God can forgive Sam.

 

***

 

Sam gets dropped off at a Flying J in Rapid City, South Dakota. He treats his driver, Rudy, to some dinner and thanks him for the ride.

 

“I hope you find what you’re lookin’ for, Sam,” says Rudy. “Remember what I said.”

 

“Yeah. Sure thing,” Sam replies.

 

There aren’t too many motels near the truck stop, but it’s a nice night and Sam doesn’t mind the walk. He checks his phone compulsively, just in case. There’s never a text from Dean and even though Sam knows better than to expect it, his heart still sinks a little bit each time.

 

The first thing he does when he finally gets into a cheap motel room is dump his bag out onto one of the beds. He shouldn’t have gotten a double but, he always does. When Dean died, Sam still took refuge in double rooms. He still set the table for two. He always behaved as though Dean was coming back, because he’d been determined to save him.

Sam picks through his belongings; three pairs of pants, eight pairs of socks, ten underwear, five t-shirts, some Henley’s, his toiletry bag, a half-empty bottle of Jack, a pocket knife Dean gave him when he left for Stanford, his journal, and his box of fake ID’s. He left his work weapons in the Impala. This is what his life amounts to. If he’d been smart, he’d have taken something of Dean’s. He’s got nothing but his memories now. He decides on Keith Morrison as his new identity and torches the rest of the ID’s in the sink.

 

It’s too quiet. Dean usually has the TV on when they’re indoors, but Sam doesn’t move to turn it on. He can’t seem to move from the end of the bed where he’s been staring off into space for the last who knows how long. He needs a few days, he thinks, a few days to process all that’s happened and how he’s going to spend his remaining time on Earth. How long does an apocalypse take? He wonders what Dean’s doing, if he’s got a plan.

 

Sam blinks, casts his eyes toward his journal. There isn’t anything personal in there, just a run-down of all his hunts. It doesn’t strike him as fair that Chuck has written his life story. He makes a mental note to go the library tomorrow and see if he can find the Supernatural books. He picks up the journal and flips to an empty page. Sam can’t pray, or call anyone. Still, there are so many things he wants to say and only one person he wants to say them to.

 

_Dean,_

_I know you’re plenty pissed at me. I deserve it. I never in a million years could have predicted how badly it would go between us. I know we’ve always had our differences, things we were never going to see eye to eye on, but I’ve always loved you, and I never thought I’d have to live without you._

_I’m sorry about Ruby, Dean. I’m sorry for everything that happened. It doesn’t make a difference, but it’s all I can feel right now. I feel so very, very, deeply sorry. I’m sorry you went to Hell for me, and that I couldn’t honor your sacrifice by keeping my promise to stay away from my powers. You warned me, it was practically your dying wish, and I didn’t listen. I kept remembering the way those hellhounds tore your chest to bloody ribbons. Every night, I heard your screams, and I knew you must still be screaming for me down there, in fucking Hell. You’re going to hate me for saying this, but, thinking about it now, I’m not sure I would have done it any different. I guess, in that way, I understand why you did what you did, why you couldn’t let me be dead. I couldn’t leave you there. I couldn’t!_

_So maybe I’m not sorry for trying to get you back. It’s the other shit, the things I did after you came back to me on your own, that I’ll never forgive myself for._

_You’ve always been everything to me. I never had a mother, barely had a father, but I had you, and you were all the family I ever needed. I worshipped you. Did you know?_

_When I was a pup, before either of us had presented as Alphas…I thought I’d marry you. I was certain you’d be an Alpha like dad. I used to pray I’d be an Omega, because then we could be together. It wasn’t sexual, I just wanted to be the person you loved the most, forever. I was so happy when you presented, and four years later, I was crushed when I found out I was an Alpha too. Do you remember that? I was such an angry tween. You shook it off as typical hormone induced rages, but it went deeper than that._

_My love for you never went away. It changed into something else, something sinful and wrong. Knowing what I know now, maybe it was the demon blood that made me a freak, but I didn’t know that then. All I knew was that my first wet dream was about kissing you. Then, at fifteen, I used to get hard whenever we sparred. There were plenty of times when I let you pin me. You must have known. Sometimes you were hard too and I would jerk off to the thought that one day you might whip your dick out._

_I think dad knew. I think he could always sense there was something wrong with me. I can’t blame him now for hating me. I mean, Yellow Eyes killed mom to get to me. All of our suffering began with me. I guess he loved me as much as he could, and I should have been more grateful._

_I thought Stanford was the cure. I had loved you for so long, it became like a cancer that ate me alive. You are beautiful, Dean. Not just on the outside, and man, were you ever fucking blessed in that department, but you’ve got this light inside you. You shine, Dean, you shine like you were made to light up the whole world. It hurt to look at you. It hurt to see you share a part of yourself I would never have with every waitress, cheerleader, bartender, and grateful victim in the lower 48. Leaving you was the most difficult, but necessary thing I ever had to do at that time._

_I tried to be a good brother to you. I was a better brother to you then than I have been since._

_I loved Jessica, but she was always a substitute for you. I wanted to fit into the mold. I wanted to be an Alpha with a beautiful blond Omega on his arm. I wanted the tough corporate job. I wanted the life I’d grown up watching on TV with you. It never felt right. You know what did? Running off with you the first chance I got. I wasn’t there to protect Jess, someone else I loved, because I was feeding the biggest addiction I had: being with you. You see, Dean? I’ve always been a selfish piece of shit._

_Here’s the worst part, Dean, my deepest darkest sin: I fell into Ruby’s trap because she seduced me with everything I ever wanted. I was out of my mind, hooked on blood and power, but those were just enablers. From the second you came back, I wanted to be with you. I wanted us to be more than brothers. I wanted to protect you from the entire world and keep you to myself. I wanted it, Dean.  You never wanted to see the darkness in me, but it was always there._

_I got everything I ever wanted, and I ruined us. I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_.

 

Sam closed the journal and threw it across the room. “I’m sorry,” he wept. He picked up the pocket knife and opened it. Dean would be free of the bond if he killed himself. Sam would go to Hell where he belonged. He sliced himself across his forearm. It felt good to bleed, to let the pain out. He sliced again, deeper this time, and he cried. “I can’t fucking do it,” he howled. He was too much of a coward. There were too many demons waiting for him down below. So Sam kept cutting, dozens of shallow cuts that covered him in red, and when he couldn’t take anymore and started to get dizzy, he latched on with his lips and sucked.

 

He woke up a few hours later on the floor of the motel. He stumbled to the bathroom, showered the blood off, and bandaged himself up.

 

Tomorrow, he’d pick a new direction to travel. Somewhere far away from the people he loved.

 

**Free to be You and Me**

 

Sam sets up shop in Oklahoma as a busboy. The news keeps getting worse as the world falls apart and the people pour in to drink their troubles away.

 

There’s an Omega, Lindsey, whose had eyes for him since he showed up two weeks ago. Sam couldn’t be less interested. She knows he’s mated, but some people don’t care about that kind of thing. Sam does. He’s never been a cheater, no matter what else he is.

 

Something strange has been happening. About a week ago, Sam was hit with a bout of lust strong enough to keep him in his room all day, gripping his knot and soaking his sheets with cum. Since then, Sam’s been getting all these feelings that aren’t his own. He’d known that some mated pairs are capable of feeling one another’s emotions telepathically, but he’d never been able to feel Dean before. He wanted to call Dean and ask him if he could feel Sam’s emotions, but he didn’t. If Dean wasn’t reaching out it was because he didn’t want to talk to him. But a little research revealed that the phenomenon was usually a coping mechanism for distance. If two mates were apart, they could remain connected through the link if they were both thinking of one another at the same time.

 

Sam went to bed with a smile on his face for the first time in months. His heart and his thoughts filled with Dean.

 

“Sam,” whispers a feminine voice. “Sa-am.”

 

Sam opens his eyes slowly, groggy with sleep. He looks around for the voice, surprised to find Jess in his bed. He must be dreaming. He’d rather see Dean, but Jess is less complicated. He leans forward to give her a kiss. It’s just a dream.

 

“So. This is your life now? Think you can just live forever with your head buried in the sand?” She runs her thumb over Sam’s chin. She smiles at him sweetly.

 

“I love you, Jess.” He sits up, turning away from her. “God knows how much I miss you, too. But you don’t know me anymore.”

 

“I know about Dean,” she says. Sam flinches, but Jess doesn’t sound disgusted or judgmental. “It was meant to be, Sam. Everything that’s happened. It was all a foregone conclusion.”

 

Part of Sam wishes that were true. It must be his subconscious trying to convince him he had no choices. It was the same argument Ruby and Zachariah had used. “You’re wrong,” Sam whispers. “People can change. There is reason for hope.” He’s not sure he believes himself, but he’s trying.

 

“No, Sam. There isn't.” Jess puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

 

“How can you be so sure?”

 

“Because you freed me,” says a male voice.

 

Sam whips around and sees a man he’s never seen before in his bed. He’s never seen him, but he knows exactly who he is. Sam’s entire body can feel the knowledge of it. Sam scrambles out of bed and stares.

 

The man smiles gently at Sam. “That's right. You know who I am.”

 

“Lucifer,” Sam says low and terrified.

 

Lucifer nods. He looks proud. “You are a hard one to find, Sam. Harder than most humans. I don't suppose you'd tell me where you are?”

Sam is grateful for the sigils Cas put on his ribs. “What do you want with me?”

 

The Devil’s smile widens. He licks his teeth before he speaks. “You, Sammy. I want you.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**The End (the episode)**

Sam would really like to wake up now. He closes his eyes tight, counts to three, and opens them. The Devil is still sitting on his bed staring at him with a pitying expression that somehow still manages to be smug. “Want me? What the hell for?”

Lucifer lounges backward onto the bed. He is obviously in no hurry to leave Sam. “Thanks to you, I walk the earth. I want to give you a gift. I want to give you everything.”

“I don't want anything from you.” It’s probably too much to hope that that’s the end of it, to believe that Lucifer has some kind of tit-for-tat mentality and he’ll leave Sam alone. Sam holds onto his fleeting hope for all it’s worth.

Lucifer sighs and gently shakes his head. “I'm so sorry, Sam, I, I really am, but Nick here is just an improvisation. Plan B. He can barely contain me without spontaneously combusting.” He slinks along the comforter on his belly toward Sam.

“What are you talking about?” Sam trembles as he watches Lucifer. He tries to remind himself this is a dream and Lucifer can’t actually hurt him. Lucifer makes an exaggerated show of turning the corners of his mouth down and shifting his head from side to side, as if to say, ‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’

Lucifer stands and moves closer to Sam. Despite the size difference, Sam can feel his disadvantage as Lucifer presses in. “Why do you think you were in that chapel?” He rumbles. Sam has the disturbing feeling he’s being seduced…or appraised.  Lucifer reaches out and up for a lock of Sam’s hair. He strokes it softly between his fingers. “You're the one, Sam.” He runs his nose up the side of Sam’s long tense neck until his cool lips reach Sam’s ear. “You're my vessel. My true vessel.”

Sam gasps, “No.”

Lucifer bites his ear solicitously. “Yes.”

Sam’s hindbrain finally acknowledges the danger he’s in and he takes a giant step back, knocking into the wall behind him.

“No,” he says through tears and gritted teeth. “That’ll never happen.”

Lucifer grins at him. “I'm sorry, but it will. I will find you. And when I do…” He rakes his eyes over Sam and the younger man has never felt more like a piece of meat about to be devoured, “You will let me in. I'm sure of it.”

“You need my consent,” Sam counters. Lucifer laughs long and loud. Lightning strikes outside his imaginary motel room. Sam is more scared than he’s ever been in his life and he can’t understand why he isn’t waking up.

“You, talking about consent…oh…Sammy.” Lucifer wipes his eyes and clears his throat. “That’s funny.”

Shame burns hot in Sam’s chest. It makes sense, he supposes. Dean is on the side of Heaven and Sam…. “I will kill myself before letting you in.” As soon as he wakes up, he’ll do the right thing, for Dean, and for the world.

“I’ll just bring you back,” Lucifer shrugs. He watches Sam absorb this information. His eyes travel down the wall as Sam sinks down onto the floor and looks up at the devil with the saddest pair of eyes. “Sam. My heart breaks for you. The weight on your shoulders, what you've done, what you still have to do. It is more than anyone could bear. If there was some other way...” Sam hiccups, prepared to beg. “but there isn't. I will never lie to you. I will never trick you. But you will say yes to me.”

“You’re wrong,” Sam whispers.

“I’m not. I think I know you better than you know yourself.” He extends his hand toward Sam, urging him to come closer, but Sam remains where he is. There is fresh terror running through him when he realizes there’s a part of him that wants to go to Lucifer, wants to be comforted.

“Why me?” Sam asks. He’s asked the same question over a hundred times since Dean died. Why did it always have to be him and Dean? Why was the universe always against them?

Lucifer crosses the small distance between them and sits cross-legged in front of Sam. Power emanates from him, touches Sam at odd angles, and strokes something inside him. “Because it had to be you, Sam. It always had to be you.” He leans forward and kisses Sam’s forehead.

When Sam looks up, Lucifer is gone, and Sam is awake in his motel room. How he managed to get from the bed to the floor, Sam doesn’t care to guess. He reaches blindly for his cellphone on the nightstand and he calls his brother.

Sam listens to the phone ring and tries to keep from panicking. The Devil was just in his head. The fucking Devil! Sam breathes deep and slow. There’s no sense in letting his thoughts get the best of him. The line clicks.

“Damn it, Cas, I need to sleep!” Dean growls into the phone. Sam has never been more relieved to hear his brother’s pissed off voice. Sam feels on the brink of a meltdown.

“Dean, it's me,” Sam says. His heart is beating fast and his voice shakes.

“Sam?” There’s a rustle on the line as Dean shifts around in bed and checks the alarm clock. Sam can almost see him moving around, the movements and sounds are that familiar. “It's quarter past four.”

Sam swallows. “This is important.” He unloads the entire story, verbatim, unwilling to leave out anything in case it turns out to be important. When he’s finished, his brother is silent. For a second, Sam thinks maybe Dean fell asleep while he was listening, but then he hears the unmistakable sound of Dean opening a bottle of beer and tossing the cap in the sink. God…Sam wishes he were there.

“So, you're his vessel, huh? Lucifer's wearing you to the prom?” There isn’t near enough concern in his voice and Sam can feel his heart sinking into his stomach.

“That's what he said.” Sam is gripping his cellphone so tight between his hands he’s afraid he’ll crack it. He breathes through it and wills himself to loosen his fingers.

Dean grunts. “Just when you thought you were out, they pull you back in, huh, Sammy?”

“So, that’s it?” Sam’s ire is slowly rising. “That's your response?”

“What are you looking for?” Dean replies and his tone is cold enough to snap something in Sam.

“I  don't know! A—a little fucking panic? Maybe?” Sam stands up and starts shoving his shit into a bag. He’s got to get out of here before Lucifer finds him. He’s got to get to Dean and figure out a plan.

“I guess I'm a little numb to the earth-shattering revelations at this point,” Dean says. Sam stops packing and stands in the center of the room. He tries to reach out for the mating bond. Dean has to feel more than he’s letting on, but all Sam can feel is…resignation.

“I want back in, Dean,” Sam says. _Don’t give up on me. I don’t know what I’ll do._

“Sam—”

“I mean it,” Sam interrupts. “I am sick of being a puppet to these sons of bitches. I'm gonna hunt him down, Dean.”

“Oh, so, we're back to revenge, then, are we? Yeah, 'cause that worked out so well last time.” Sam can practically hear Dean rolling his eyes.

“Not revenge,” Sam says and he wonders if he’s broken beyond the point of salvaging but…there’s still this spark of hope inside him that won’t die out. “Redemption.”

It hurts more than words can describe when Dean chuffs out a deprecating laugh. “So, what, you're just gonna walk back in and we're gonna be the dynamic duo again?”

“Look, Dean, I can do this. I can. I'm gonna prove it to you.” There’s an irrational part of Sam that can’t understand why his brother can’t fucking forgive him. The Apocalypse is here. They’re both probably going to die! This is bigger than them!

“Look, Sam—it doesn't matter—whatever we do. I mean, it turns out that you and me, we're the, uh, the fire and the oil of the Armageddon. You know, on that basis alone, we should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good.

For good? No. Sam can’t comprehend the words coming out of Dean’s mouth. They’ve died for one another…they’ve come back…how..how? “Dean, it does not have to be like this,” Sam begs. His ass has hit the carpet again. “We can fight it.” _Please, Dean. I’ll do anything._

Sam sighs in relief when Dean says, “Yeah, you're right. We can.” _Thank you, Dean. You won’t regret it. I swear! I’m gonna…_ But Dean continues, “But not together. We're not stronger when we're together, Sam. I think we're weaker. Because whatever we have between us—love, family, whatever it is—they are always gonna use it against us. And you know that. Yeah, we're better off apart. We got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing if we just go our own ways.”

Sam is lost. “Dean, don't do this.”

“Bye, Sam.” Dean hangs up.

Sam stays on the line long after his brother’s voice is gone and replaced by a disembodied recording:

We're sorry; we are unable to complete your call as dialed. Please check the number and dial again, or call your operator to assist you.

We're sorry; we are unable to complete your call as dialed. Please check the number and dial again, or call your operator to help you.

We're sorry; we are unable to complete your call as dialed. Please check the number and dial again, or call your operator to help you.

Sam closes his phone and slumps onto his side on the floor. There’s no point in leaving. He has nowhere to go. Maybe there isn’t any point in fighting. It’s all meant to be. It was _always_ meant to be.

 

*******

 

Sam’s eyes slide open the tiniest bit when he feels Dean’s fingers in his hair. His head is cushioned on his brother’s lap and his long legs are out straight in front of Sam. “It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean says. “You can keep resting.”

Sam pulls his own knees in at close as he can and snuggles deeper into Dean’s stomach. “Thought you left me for good,” Sam mutters. He hasn’t been this comfortable in a long time. It’s nice—being with Dean like this—been so long.

“I’ll never leave you, Sam. You’re mine.” There’s something about the words themselves that make Sam want to tense up, but the feeling disappears just as quickly as it came when Dean rakes his fingers deep through Sam’s hair. Sam nods.

“I am yours, Dean. Always have been.” Sam places his hand on Dean’s thigh and gently squeezes. His brother feels solid.

“I know, Sammy. You thought you kept it hidden, but you’ve always been the kind of kid to wear your heart on your sleeve. Big puppy-eyes staring up at me, begging me to claim you. It’s no wonder you did what you did. I wasn’t brave enough.”

Sam’s chest hurts. “That’s not true, Dean. I wasn’t brave. I was…stupid. I hurt you.” A tear slips from his eye and across the bridge of his nose. Sam watches it get absorbed by Dean’s jeans. “I hurt you real bad.”

Dean hums. “Yeah, I guess you did. You’re not going to do it again, are you.” It isn’t a question. “You’re going to behave from now on and listen to me. Trust me when I say I know what’s best for us.”

Sam nods emphatically. “I swear it, Dean. Whatever you say. Whatever you want! Just please…don’t cut me out again. I…I’m afraid of what I’ll become without you.” Sam wants to sit up. He wants to wrap his arms around Dean and kiss him. Dean keeps him pinned down with surprising strength. “Dean?”

“It can be like this forever, Sam. We can do anything you want, all those dirty, nasty things you fantasize about.” Dean chuckles when Sam groans. “You can fuck me, fill me up with your knot and breed me like the whore I am. You’d like that? Wouldn’t you, Sammy?”

“Yeah,” Sam whines. “I wanna kiss you. Wanted to my whole life. I love you, Dean. I love you so much.” Heat and lust crawl outward from Sam’s spine and settle deep in his heavy balls. His body unfurls and he rubs his burgeoning erection across the ground. “So beautiful, Dean.”

“You too, baby brother. Perfectly made.” Dean grabs a fistful of Sam’s hair and pulls his head back to get at his own fly. Sam keens. His mouth waters. Dean pulls out his pretty Omega cock. “You gonna let me in, Sammy?” He rubs the slick head against Sam’s lips.

Sam’s heart is thundering drumbeat. All around him is safety, comfort, love, and _Dean._ He opens his mouth eagerly and tries to swallow his brother. The fist in his hair holds him back. “Please, Dean,” Sam begs. He sticks his tongue out, straining to lick the precome beading at the tip of Dean’s glorious dick. Sam knows he can fit it all in his mouth and _God_ he wants it.

“Tell me what I want to hear, Sam,” Dean purrs. “Are you gonna let me in?”

“Yes, Dean. Yes,” Sam moans as he ruts against the carpet, scraping his cock along the rough fabric of his jeans. “Anything.”

“Good boy, Sam,” Dean crows. He pulls Sam’s head down hard onto his cock and fills every inch of Sam’s mouth like it was made for him. They both moan, long and loud. “Fuck! Yeah. No hands, Sammy. Stay right there.”

Sam doesn’t bother with words. He pushes his own face down onto Dean, burying his nose in his sparse pubic hair, and swallows around the cock in his throat. This is as close to Heaven as Sam has ever imagined. He moans, and sucks, and makes the most embarrassing noises. Dean is fucking Sam’s face with pure abandon, denying him oxygen, and smashing his nose. Sam loves every moment.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” Dean growls.

“Mmmph!”

“That’s naughty, Sam. Alpha’s aren’t supposed to like that.” Dean snaps his hips up hard, choking Sam even though he can’t go that deep into his throat.

Sam blushes hard. He wanted to be Dean’s Omega. He’s wanted to be fucked by him since always, and the desire has never gone away.

“It’s okay.” Dean huffs and keeps humping. “I’ll fuck you, Sammy. I’ll open you up with my own slick and cram my cock in you. Maybe my balls too. Would you like that, Sam? Want me to punish you for the things you’ve done?” He pulls Sam back by his hair. Ignores the way he cries out. “Tell me, bitch.”

Sam sucks in a ragged breath. His vision is hazy. His face is covered in spit and slick. “Yeah, Dean. Yeah! Fuck me.”

Dean shoves his head back down onto his cock. “You’re gonna have to earn it,” he growls. He pummels Sam’s mouth, fucks in and out with a speed that hurts Sam’s neck. And he comes.

Sam mewls around every sweet spurt of Dean’s cum. He swallows it down greedily, suckles at his brother’s cock for more and whines when he’s shoved away.

Dean straddles Sam’s chest and brackets his head in two hands. His dick lies limp between his open fly. “Tell me where you are, Sam.”

Sam is in a lust filled fog. “What?”

“Tell me,” Dean says and his voice is much colder than it has been.

Sam’s thoughts are beginning to clear. He can’t smell Dean’s emotions. In fact, he hasn’t been able to smell anything this whole time. Something isn’t right, he realizes. Where did Dean come from? How did he get here? He blinks several times to clear the mess Dean has made of his face. When he can see clearly, his body seizes with shock. Dean’s eyes glow red above him and there’s a sneer on his face that Sam knows doesn’t belong to him.

Lucifer leans down and licks a drop of cum from Sam’s chin. “Tell me where you are, Sam.”

Sam jolts awake on the floor of his motel. He barely makes it to the toilet before he heaves all the contents of his stomach. He thinks he can hear Lucifer’s laughter in his head.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**The End (cont.)**

What is the sound water makes when it’s rushing past your ear? As hundreds of droplets are crushed together and shot down at him from above, Sam wonders. Doesn’t matter, he muses from far away, he still likes it. A few thoughts are creeping in; Sam doesn’t like that as much. _Focus._ He blinks and realizes he’s shivering. _Water’s cold. When did that happen? Don’t think, Sam. Don’t think._ He remains perfectly still. The water feels warm again, now that he’s relaxed into it. If he lets the water numb his skin, if he focuses on the sound it makes in his ears and the static it creates in his head, and if he keeps his eyes on the drain as it swirls and descends into the darkness—he’s okay. Sam’s okay. He’s perfectly, one-hundred-percent, no-need-to-panic, fine!

_Bobby. Maybe Bobby will help us?_

_No. No one can know. We’re okay. We’re…_

Sam sobs once before he goes back into his trance.

_Shhhhhh. Shhhhhhhhh. That’s the sound the water makes._

_Oh. Yeah, I guess so._

Sam has been crammed in the bathtub for hours. The water, once hot enough to blister his shoulders a bit, has been leeching his body heat for a while.  It’s possible he’s shed enough skin to be a new person, at least, Sam hopes, but he still feels dirty— _unclean_ —no matter how hard he scrubs. His teeth won’t stop chattering.

_This must be how Dean feels._

_Don’t think about Dean! Fucking idiot._

_I’m sorry._

_No one fucking cares._

_He’s going to find me._

_I said SHUT THE FUCK UP!_

Sam slams the side of his head against the wall. He tries not to cry, fails, and repeats the action until his sobs have dwindled and his mind is blank again. The water swirls, pale pink, around the drain. The drain makes a sound too, when it swallows the water. _What sound is that?_

Eventually, Sam has to shut off the water. There is no amount of denial that can overcome his survival instinct and he’s flirting with hypothermia. It’s not horrible, as deaths go, but Sam is in no hurry to be pulled back into his body by the devil himself. He moves in stages, unfurling his body from the fetal position, standing up, stepping out of the tub, and wrapping himself in towels. Each stage brings a new challenge, a moment of infiltrating awareness, when Sam has to overcome his shame and despair, and do the next thing. By the time he makes it to his bed, Sam is inconsolable and bereft.

Lucifer is going to be waiting in Sam’s dreams again. Sam’s entire body locks up and shivers at the knowledge. He’ll fight the sleep as long as he can, but eventually, he’ll lose. His situation is impossible. He can’t sleep and he can’t stay awake. He can’t die but he has no reason to live.

_If you had your powers…._

_No! Didn’t you learn your lesson?_

_Then what should we do?_

_I don’t know._

_He’s gonna find us._

_I know._

Sam goes through his options again, finding no more solutions than before. He is well and truly fucked. It’s no wonder that Lucifer is entirely confident of Sam’s submission. ‘It is written’, Zachariah had said. This is ultimately God’s plan for him and Dean. Is Sam supposed to know more than God? Is he supposed to somehow outsmart The Creator? “I mean, come the fuck on!” Sam yells into the empty room. “God loves everyone? Yeah, right! You never loved me, not ever.” God may not be listening, but Sam may as well get a few things off his chest. “You made me for this. You knew all of it was going to happen. How could you do that? Why did you even create us? What was the point?! You’re nothing but a selfish damn child with unlimited power and too much time on your hands. You could have made the world anything and this is the best you could do? Wherever you are, I hate you. I hate all of you.” _If I’m going to die anyway, if I’m going to end up saying yes no matter what I do, I may as well get drunk on blood and go down swinging._

There’s only one thing stopping Sam from running headfirst into his thirst. Maybe his big brother doesn’t think he’s worth anything anymore. It is probable Sam will never see Dean again, time is short and the universe is literally against them, but…he made his mate a promise, and he’d like to keep it. Sam isn’t sure how Lucifer is going to get him to say yes. He never could have predicted that killing Lilith would be a mistake. Regardless, Sam would like to believe he can at least be useful to Dean somehow. If Dean ends up saying yes to Michael, at least Lucifer will be weak. Of course, that’s not the way ‘it is written’ so…ugh, Sam’s head is throbbing under the fatalist paradox.

Sam resolves himself to finding ways to pass the hours. He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling for a long time. He watches TV. He showers with cold water when he gets drowsy. When it gets dark, he puts on some clothes and walks to work at the bar. He offers to close up. He goes for a run around three a.m. He gets back to the motel around five and takes another shower. He walks to a diner and has breakfast. He drinks a lot of coffee. Around eleven a.m. his eyes begin to get heavy and coffee isn’t any help. By mid-afternoon, Sam is passed out in a diner booth next to the untouched salad he ordered for lunch.

 

***

 

Sam stands in a motel room that is only familiar due to the significance of the events that took place here. This is the room where he and Ruby hatched the plan to turn Dean into an Omega. This is the room where Sam was seduced into betraying the person he loves most.

He looks around for Lucifer, knowing the fallen angel has to be around somewhere. There’s a steadiness to this constructed reality, and now that Sam has been held prisoner in his own mind by Lucifer a few times, he knows this is no ordinary dream.

“You always were the smart one, Sam,” Ruby walks into the room wearing a tight tank top with no bra underneath, and a pair of tiny panties. Sam lunges, snatches her up by the throat with one hand and pins her up high on the wall. Her feet don’t even kick out. Ruby laughs. It’s a shrill and mocking sound.

“You said you’d never trick me. What you did to me was sick!” Sam is practically foaming at the mouth. _I should kill you. Drain you dry!_

Ruby’s eyes glow red. Lucifer smiles behind her delicate features. “That wasn’t a trick, Sam.” She lifts one, formerly dangling arm, and caresses Sam’s face. “I told you, I want to give you everything, and I will.”

Sam squeezes Ruby’s throat tighter. “It’s not real!”

“Reality is what you believe it is, Sam. When I get to full power, I’ll build you worlds. I’ll give you power beyond your imagination. I can make it nice for you Sam. I can make a place just for you, where Dean can forgive you, and you can be together.”

Sam releases his ineffectual hold on Lucifer. “What makes you think I would want something like that? Some shitty proximity of my brother that just does what I say? I’d never want that.”

Lucifer rubs her neck with the tips of her fingers like she’s savoring Sam’s touch. “Oh. Really?” She jerks her chin toward the bed behind him and Sam takes the bait. He turns to see him and Ruby in bed together.

_"Well, there is something else you could do," Ruby purrs, settling herself in Sam's lap, catches him under the chin and makes him look at her._

_  
"I can't," Sam says, "I can't do that to him. We swore to each other we would never do that."_

Sam doesn’t want to see this. His own memories are painful enough. He doesn’t need to see himself from this perspective. Sober, he can easily spot Ruby’s technique. Sam was, and is, pathetic.

_  
Ruby's hands are on his face now, hot with the blood he can hear calling him and he turns his face into her wrist, mouth falling open. "You've thought about it," Ruby whispers, "I know you have. All those times Dean's undercut you, all those times he's taken anyone else's side but yours. He still treats you like his little kid brother, even though you're much more of an Alpha than he is, and you know that," Ruby slides her hand down his neck, to his chest, where she spreads her fingers, "in your heart."_

_  
_ Sam absolutely burns with shame. “I don’t need to see this. I lived it already!” He shoves Lucifer with both hands and she lands on her ass.

Lucifer makes a show of leaning back on both elbows and widening her legs. “You keep lying to yourself, Sam. I’m going to keep showing you things until you can admit it.”

“How am I lying?”

“You want more, Sam. You’ve always wanted more. You want what only I can give you and it’s time you admit it. It’s the only way you’re going to accept your destiny.”

Back on the bed, Ruby laughs.

 _"I know everything about you. We don't have any secrets, do we Sam? Like you said, he's not as strong as he used to be. He's weak, always has been. And the way he's treated you lately, you've been thinking, maybe it's time."_ _Ruby takes his silence as agreement. "It's not natural, not turning him."_

_  
"Not normal," he acknowledges._

_"Not_ _right_ _," Ruby insists. "Don't you feel that? Doesn't it itch under your skin?"_

_  
"It always has, but... he never, he never tried with me. I don't—"_

No, Sam laments, Dean never tried to turn Sam. Instead, he’d tempered himself to endure the presence of another Alpha, because that Alpha was Sam, and Dean loved him.

Lucifer chuckles. “All he did by not turning you early was lose your respect. If he’d shoved you down that summer you were fifteen and humping the furniture, you’d have never thought he was weak.”

“I was fucking high! I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Your inhibitions may have been lowered, but your desires were always there, Sam.” Lucifer taps her temple. “I’m in your head. I know.”

There isn’t anything Sam can say to refute Lucifer. After all, Sam recently came to the same conclusions recently. “I didn’t want it to happen like this. I tried to stop.”

Lucifer smirks. “You can’t turn back after you’ve fallen off the cliff, Sam. It was already too late and you know it.”

He can’t argue with that. He’d enjoyed it; watching Dean slowly change, lean on Sam more, the way Dean let him take charge more often, and then completely. “You’re right. I went Dark Side. It ended badly. ‘Sthat supposed to make me want to do it again?”

Lucifer rubs her foot up Sam’s leg. “It only ended badly because you refused to go all the way. You can’t straddle the divide; it’ll eat you alive. The truth is, you can have Dean any time you want. You’re his Alpha, Sam. Stop being a pussy and take him. Make him accept your claim. That’s all you have to do.”

Sam swallows and his eyes well up with tears. “He hates me. If I did that…it would be like raping him all over again.”

Lucifer rolls her eyes. “Semantics, Sam. You wanted to be powerful, you are. You wanted Dean, he’s yours. All this waffling is causing you both nothing but pain. Dean can’t forgive you without betraying himself and your inability to take control puts it on his shoulders. If you took away his choice, he could finally accept it. He wants you just as much. He feels the bond between you and he’s suffering because he can’t allow himself to come to you of his own free will. You want surrender when you should be accepting responsibility instead.”

Sam kicks Lucifer with his booted foot. “You don’t know what you’re talking about and I’m not falling for this again. Fuck you!”

Lucifer pouts and rubs her flank. “Watch it, Sam,” she tuts, “Your rage is showing.” She stands. “I think it’s time for the grand finale. I’ll show  you how this ends.”

 

***

 

Sam shields his eyes from the light. When they adjust, he opens them and looks around. They appear to be standing in some sort of garden. The sky looks overcast, everything covered by a film of grey. “Where are we?” Sam insists.

“Five years in the future,” Lucifer says. She reaches out for Sam’s hand and waits expectantly. “Take my hand, Sam. We’re going to see Dean.” She smiles when Sam can’t resist the offer of seeing his brother. They walk deep into a garden and stop beneath a tree.

Sam startles when gunfire erupts around them.

“Chill, Sam. We’re just spectators here. No one can see us, and nothing can hurt you.”

“What’s going on?” Sam’s heart is racing. None of this feels right. And then he hears it—his own voice.

“I’ve been expecting you, Dean.”

Sam’s shrugs off Lucifer’s hand and steps out into a clearing. His stomach lurches, but nothing comes up. He’s watching himself, but it isn’t him, it’s….

“That’s right, Sam. That’s us, together at last. I can’t wait.”

Sam’s world tilts on its axis. “This can’t be real. This isn’t real!” He kneels down in the dirt and stares. He doesn’t acknowledge Lucifer rubbing her hand along his back in a parody of a soothing gesture. “I told you, Sam. You’re going to say yes.”

Sam jerks up at the sound of Dean’s voice. He looks older, his beautiful face deeply lined around a hard set of eyes that have lost their light. “Get out of my brother, you son of a bitch!”

Lucifer!Sam delivers a patronizing smirk. “Sam hasn’t been your brother in a long time, Dean. You gave him up. He’s finally happy now.”

“I doubt that,” Dean growls and raises The Colt. He fires off a shot and hits his mark.

Sam jolts forward. Dean did it—he killed Sam. His chest hurts where the bullet has struck.

“Oh…Dean,” Lucifer!Sam taunts, “You really did it.”

Sam stares in abject horror and fascination as Lucifer wipes a hand down his bone-white suit and removes any trace of the bullet. His eyes whip over to Dean who’s still standing there, holding The Colt. There are tears on his cheeks, but resignation in his eyes. “Run, Dean!” Sam yells. He moves to charge toward this future version of his brother. Lucifer holds him back.

“You can’t do anything Sam. Just watch.” His grip is immovable. “This is what happens if you don’t take control.”

“What’re you talking about?! Let me go.”

“If you never claim Dean, he won’t be at your side when The End comes. He’s alone, Sam. He dies alone.”

Sam looks on in horror as Lucifer!Sam slowly makes his way over to Dean. His brother doesn’t move. He’s lost all hope, Sam realizes. Lucifer!Sam caresses Dean’s cheek. “It’s a shame Sam never claimed you. You would’ve made a wonderful general.”

“Screw you,” Dean warbles. Lucifer!Sam grins.

“No, Dean,” he whispers. “Screw you.” He grabs Dean swiftly by the neck and tosses him to the ground.

“No!” Sam screams. “No!”

It’s too late. Lucifer!Sam steps on the back of Dean’s neck and breaks it. Sam’s brother, his mate, is dead. Sam is inconsolable. He lies on the ground and cries into the dirt. “No,” he whispers. “I’ll never say yes. Never.”

The horror isn’t over. “Aren't you a surprise,” Lucifer!Sam says. Sam thinks he’s talking to him and looks up. “You've come a long way to see this, haven't you?”

Sam hears Dean’s voice again, but it’s more familiar, more like the Dean of his own time. Sam wipes snot from his face and crawls forward to get a better look. His mate is alive, but standing in front of Lucifer and his own corpse.

“Well, go ahead. Kill me,” Dean says. He sounds devastated.

“Kill you?” Lucifer!Sam looks down at Dean’s corpse. “Don't you think that would be a little...redundant?” Lucifer!Sam sighs. “I'm sorry. It must be painful, speaking to me in this—shape. But it had to be your brother. It had to be.” He reaches for Dean’s shoulder and Dean moves away. “You don't have to be afraid of me, Dean. What do you think I'm going to do?”

“I don't know. Maybe deep-fry the planet?” Sam doesn’t miss the way Dean can’t stop looking at his own dead body. Sam can only keep his eyes on the version of his brother that’s alive.

“You ever hear the story of how I fell from grace?”

“Oh, good God, you're not gonna tell me a bedtime story, are you? My stomach's almost out of bile.” Sam wants to reach out and touch his mate more than he’s ever wanted anything, but Lucifer holds him firmly.

“You know why God cast me down?” Lucifer!Sam continues, “Because I loved him. More than anything. And then God created...you. The little...hairless apes. And then he asked all of us to bow down before you—to love you, more than him. And I said, "Father, I can't." I said, "These human beings are flawed, murderous." And for that, God had Michael cast me into hell. Now, tell me, does the punishment fit the crime? Especially, when I was right? Look at what six billion of you have done to this thing, and how many of you blame me for it.

Your brother loved you more than anything, Dean. And you threw him away just like my father did to me.”

  
“That’s not how it happened!” Dean steps forward. _So brave_ , Sam thinks.

“The how and the why never matter in the end, Dean. I know you won't say yes to Michael. And I know you won’t forgive Sam. Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up—here. I win. So, I win.” Lucifer!Sam smirks at Dean.

Dean’s face is a mask of pain. “You're not fooling me, you know that? With this sympathy-for-the-devil crap. I know what you are.”

“What am I?”

“You're the same thing, only bigger. The same brand of cockroach I've been squashing my whole life. An ugly, evil, belly-to-the-ground, supernatural piece of crap. The only difference between them and you is the size of your ego.”

Lucifer!Sam has an endless amount of smarmy smiles for Dean. “I like you, Dean. I get what the other angels see in you. Goodbye. We'll meet again soon.” He turns his back on Dean.

“You better kill me now!” Dean yells.

Lucifer!Sam turns back. “See you in five years, Dean.”

Thunder and lightning cover the sky. Lucifer drags Sam up by the collar and turns him around to look into the devil’s eyes. “I think you’ve seen enough, Sam. Time to wake up.”

 

***

 

Sam’s eyes fly open and his jerky movements rattle the silverware on the table where he fell asleep. He couldn’t have been out more than a few minutes and yet, the entire world looks different. His phone rings and he lets it go to voicemail. It rings several more times before Sam can make himself fish it out of his pocket and bring it to his ear.

“Hello?” Sam says softly.

“Sam?” Says Dean, and Sam is suddenly hyper-aware.

“Dean?” Sam sobs into the phone, unashamed to be crying in a public space and surrounded by strangers.

“Yeah. Listen, can you…uh…can you meet me somewhere?”

Sam doesn’t say anything for several long seconds. He has no idea what the right thing to do is, but he still says, “Anywhere you want, Dean. I’ll be there.”


	6. Chapter 6

**The End (cont.)**

 

Sam’s consciousness returns slowly. This isn’t the first time he’s been knocked out, so the sensation isn’t a foreign one. Still, he wasn’t expecting things to go to shit quite so soon. He groans.

“You up?” Dean asks.

Sam tries to speak and realizes he’s gagged. He sluggishly goes to remove it and finds out he’s also been tied to a chair at wrists and ankles. His entire body goes tense and the spike of adrenaline sharpens his senses enough to snap him into self-awareness. He opens his eyes and looks directly at Dean who is silently looking back at him.

Dean doesn’t appear to be injured, but nothing about his demeanor puts Sam at ease. Sam can smell his mate’s sadness, anger, and something else, something like distress. Sam hasn’t smelled it this strongly since the night he assaulted Dean. Sam takes his eyes off his brother to go over the room and make sure they’re alone.

“It’s just us, Sam.” Dean’s voice is soft. The scent of distress amplifies; reeks of vinegar.

That’s when Sam sees the demon knife in Dean’s hand. He’s just sitting there on the edge of the bed, knees spread with his elbows on his thighs, and the knife pointed toward the ground. Sam can smell his own blood. Sam’s heart drops, but he keeps himself from whining. He can’t say he’s surprised. Maybe he’d do the same. He takes a deep breath through his nose, exhales slowly, and waits.

Dean looks confused for a second as he scents Sam’s emotions. “Really, Sam? I barely did anything. Usual checks.” Dean rolls his eyes.

Sam tilts his chin toward the knife.

Dean scoffs. “This? Just being careful. The shit I saw today…I’m not taking any chances.”

Sam relaxes a bit. He looks at his brother with pinched eyebrows and a question in his eyes. He and Dean have always been good at this kind of communication; the kind built over a lifetime of close quarters.

Dean stands and paces the room for a few seconds. He looks up at the ceiling while he speaks. “I saw something today. It…Sam…it was too much.”

Sam nods. He was there too, he thinks. He saw himself as Lucifer’s puppet, watched helplessly as Dean’s neck was snapped. He’d driven like a bat out of hell to get to Dean, desperate to see his brother safe and alive. He didn’t expect a ‘glad you’re not dead’ hug, but neither did he anticipate a blow to the side of the head. _You think I’m going to say yes. I’m on lockdown._ An old anger bubbles up in Sam’s chest.

Dean turns toward him, glaring. “You wanna be pissed? You go right ahead, Sam.” He stomps forward and points with the knife. “You go right ahead! Be furious! Be so fucking mad you can barely breathe around it. Be angry and feel helpless. You should know how that feels.” Dean gets in Sam’s face; butt’s their heads together with enough force to make them both wince. “That’s how I’ve felt every fucking day since you let that demon bitch into our lives.” Dean backs up and takes several breaths. He looks like he might cry. “That’s how I’ve felt every day since….” He takes more breaths.

Sam forces himself to watch. He wants to look away from this, from the irreparable damage he’s done to his brother, his Dean—but he needs to see this. He needs to feel and remember this pain so he never hurts Dean again. Sam can feel his own tears on his face. He mumbles from behind his gag, “Mmmforay, Den.”

Dean turns to look at him. There are tears in his eyes too. “Yeah? Fuck your sorry, Sam.” He sniffles. “Fuck _you.”_

Sam nods. Obviously, there’s a purpose behind all this, and Dean will get to it much faster if Sam lets Dean do it his way.

Dean takes very little time to wrangle his emotions. He’s always been better at it than Sam. He wipes the tip of his nose with his forearm and sits back down on the bed. He sets the knife on the comforter beside him before he meets Sam’s eyes. “I know this is confusing. But just…just let me do what I gotta do and say what I gotta say. Okay?”

Sam nods.

Dean clears his throat. “Okay. Crossed paths with our old buddy, Zach.” He shifts uncomfortably. “He…uh…I don’t know if it’s true or if it’s more angel hocus-pocus but…he took me into the future. Five years. It didn’t look too good, man.”

Dean takes his time telling the story of his trip to the future. He talks about the croatoan virus and being kidnapped by his future self and what an altogether surreal experience it had been. “I turn into a total dick,” Dean gripes. “Shocking, since I’m such a peach.” They share a fragile smile over that one. Dean skims past the incident with Risa, and can’t help the way he laughs when he recounts how Cas becomes some kind of hippy-love-guru.  All too soon, Dean gets quiet.

Sam’s mouth is dry from the rag in his mouth and the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Dean saw his own death. He saw Lucifer in Sam’s body.

“I fed my friends into a meat grinder,” Dean says. He answers Sam’s head tilt. “The other me, the dick I’m supposed to become…he just…sent them to die. Even Cas, no powers, no skills, no nothin’.” He stares into Sam’s eyes, all his thoughts on display for him. “What kind of person does that?” _A monster._ Dean’s eyes snap away. “Not even the worst part, Sammy.” Sam’s heart aches at hearing Dean say his name like that, like he’s saying something just for him, only something Sam can be trusted with.

“It was weird. When I asked about you…the other me said you didn’t make it. He said it like it wasn’t a big deal. I guess we hadn’t talked in a long time before it happened.” Dean stands up and scrubs at the back of his head. He paces slowly as he continues. “You know what I thought?” He waits for Sam to reply.

Sam shakes his head.

“I thought…good.” Dean stares into Sam’s eyes without flinching. “I get free of you. It happens all on its own. I saw a future where I move on from you, Sam. Where I don’t have to live every day with this insane fucking desire to be next to you and this hatred toward myself for allowing you to live after what you did to me.” Dean rears back and punches Sam across the face. “You raped me!” Sam sobs, but it has nothing to do with being punched.

“I hate you right now, Sam. I hate you for what you did.” He punches Sam again, hard enough to make the younger man dizzy. “I warned you about Ruby.” Another punch lands. “I warned you about those freaks and their powers, told you not to go that way. I begged you to listen. And what did it get me, Sam? What did my love for you get me?” Dean shakes Sam by the collar.

Sam has no words and Dean isn’t interested in hearing them, but he keeps saying he’s sorry with his eyes.

Dean goes back to pacing. He massages his knuckles. “But I’m not better than you, Sam.” He stops in the middle of the room. “Right circumstances, right justifications, and I’m just like you—willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done.” When his eyes meet Sam’s, they’re full of tears. “I made that deal. Couldn’t live with you dead so…. I broke the first seal, Sam. I tortured souls by the thousands and I was good at it. I fucking loved it. I loved it enough that…. I saw what I become without you and I saw what _you_ become without me and…we can’t let it happen.”

Sam can smell the despair coming off Dean and it’s like a knife twirling in a festering wound. His eye is swollen and leaking, whether with tears or blood, Sam doesn’t know, but he wishes Dean would just keep hitting him. None of this is Dean’s fault. But, he’s still gagged and Sam can’t think of anything that would make any difference, so he waits.

“You know what gets me?” Dean continues. “When I saw that _thing_ riding around in your skin….” He walks toward Sam and stands between his bound legs. He looks down at Sam and for the first time, Sam has no clue what he’s going to say. He only knows it pains Dean to say it. “He was wearing your face, Sam.” Dean lifts his hand and Sam braces for another punch that never comes. He’s equally unprepared for the gentle press of Dean’s hand to the side of his face. “It was like you died all over again, Sammy.” Dean’s tears drip onto Sam’s shocked face. “I couldn’t save you. I wasn’t even there. I don’t know why you said yes, but I know you, even now, even after all this, and I just…you must have felt like you had nothing left. How am _I_ supposed to live with that?”

Sam wonders if it’s possible to hear your own heart breaking. Dean doesn’t want him back. Sam’s a liability and Dean needs to keep an eye on him. He nods, not really knowing why, maybe just to say he understands and…he agrees. Lucifer’s already been in his head.

“Look, man, I'm sorry. I don't know. I'm...whatever I need to be.” Dean walks back toward the bed and picks up the demon-killing knife. “But if you're serious and you want back in... you should hang on to this.” He cuts Sam’s arm loose and holds the knife out to him handle first. “I’m sure you’re rusty.”

Sam can’t look Dean in the eye. He carefully cuts his other arm loose and gingerly pulls the gag from his mouth. Aside from that, he doesn’t much feel like moving.

“Sam?” Dean says. His scent of despair has receded into anxiety.

Sam sighs. “Thank you,” he says. He sounds as hollowed out as he feels. “I’ll try not to let you down.”

Dean turns away and sits on the bed. “Oh, I know it,” he tries to sound jovial, “I mean, you are the second-best hunter on the planet.” His humor falls flat. “Maybe we are each other's Achilles heel, Sam. Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know. I just know we're all we've got. More than that. We keep each other human.”

Sam’s not sure, but he still nods. “So, what do we do now?” He finally looks up at Dean.

Dean sighs. “We make our own future.”

Sam doesn’t know what that looks like, but he’s at least determined to earn Dean’s trust again. “Guess we have no choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in the middle of a move that involves a house renovation. I am in Hell. Anyway, I'm still determined to finish this if there are people wanting to read it. At this point, it's much longer than I anticipated, and the direction I have for it means there's still quite a few chapters to go. However, I think we're going to start seeing some amends and the story is going to have to speed up. This isn't meant to be a novel lol. Following as close to canon as possible and adding some smut, the ending may still end up stinging like a bitch, but I think Sam will get his redemption and Dean will find peace.
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts. Where do we go from here? What episodes would you like to read?


	7. Chapter 7

**The Real Ghostbusters**

Dean's been very clear about the fact that working together does not mean they are partners. It's more like a dictatorship. Dean gives the orders and Sam follows them. It looks strange to anyone on the outside looking in, but it's fairly straightforward to them. Sam obeys, or Dean cuts him loose. It's not perfect, or comforting, but at least Sam gets to stay close to his brother and look out for him. Two weeks ago, he managed to save Dean and Bobby from an ancient witch with an affinity for poker and draining away the youth of others. Despite the crippling fear of possibly losing Dean—again—it felt good to save the day, to have Dean be proud of him again.

Dean’s also made a few concessions. He talks to Sam, about regular things, like he used to do, no more painful silence with only the counting of the yellow lines on the highway to occupy Sam's mind. He brings Sam back coffee and food when he goes out. He even let Sam Drive once. Sam is grateful to be somewhat in Dean’s good graces, but he doesn’t allow himself to hope it means anything more.

More often than not, Dean still dumps Sam at the motel before going out for the night. Sam’s still in charge of doing all the research and legwork Dean has no interest in doing. They never discuss anything personal and staunchly ignore the various scents they each give off be they sadness, fear, loneliness, or lust. Dean drinks too much and Sam likes to cut himself in the bathroom. Neither of them mentions these things.

Lucifer hasn’t infiltrated Sam's dreams since he reunited with Dean and he’s in no hurry to look that particular gift horse in the mouth, even if that's _exactly_ what you should do with a gift horse. Sam's research on angel anti-possession tattoos hasn't turned up anything either. Luckily he and Dean are still hidden thanks to Cas. Whatever Lucifer’s planning, Sam wants nothing to do with it. A text from Chuck is not a good omen.

“Whaddya think has Chuck so spooked he couldn't call and tell us over the phone?” asks Dean as he takes the Impala up to 95 miles per hour.

“Don’t know, Dean. Text just said life-and-death situation. Him being a prophet and all, I figure we ought to take him at his word.” Sam replies. He yawns and rolls his shoulders. He’s tired, but Dean’s been up for over 24 hours and Sam feels obligated to keep him company on the long drive.

“Yeah, well, just remember that just ‘cuz he’s a prophet doesn’t mean you can trust his intel. Could be angels planning another ambush.”

Sam nods and beats back his desire to put his hand on Dean’s leg to ward off the anxiety he can smell coming off of Dean. “Whatever it is, Dean, we’ll figure it out together. Go out swinging, right?”

Dean takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. Some of his anxiety ebbs away, but a hint of sadness lingers. “Right.”

Forty-five minutes later the Impala roars up a country road and squeals around the corner into a car park, past an old fashioned sign that reads: Welcome to The Pineview Hotel. Dean barely throws it in park before he’s running around the back of the car to open the trunk. Sam stands by impatiently for a weapon when he sees Dean pause and look around.

Sam snaps his fingers in front of his face, “Hey. Come on.” Dean still looks confused so Sam takes a look around too. It’s weird. There are a bunch of identical Impala’s filling the parking lot.

Before Sam can say anything, he spots Chuck coming down the steps leading up to the hotel. “Chuck! There you are.”

Chuck seems surprised to see them, “Guys?”

-666-

Sam would laugh if he and his brother weren’t in a version of their personal hell. They’re surrounded by dozens of lackluster imitations of themselves and their loved ones, and even a few past kills. He should murder Becky, or at least, throw her in the trunk while they drive back to Bobby’s. That should teach her to call them away from their important work for…for…this _shitshow_.

“Welcome to the first annual Supernatural convention,” says a portly announcer from the dinky stage at the front of the room. “At 3:45 in the Magnolia room we have the panel, 'Frightened little boy, the secret life of Dean'.” Sam internally cringes on his brother’s behalf. “And at 4:30 there's the 'Homoerotic subtext of Supernatural.'” Yup…maximum cringe. They’re in a room full of people who’ve read about their lives, their internal struggles, and the most sacred things Sam and Dean have shared. They need to get out of here _yesterday!_

“Sam,” Dean growls.

“Oh, and of course the big hunt starts at 7pm sharp.” The crowd cheers. “But right now, right now I'd like to introduce the man himself. The creator, the writer of the Supernatural books. The one, the only, Carver Edlund!”

“I know, Dean,” Sam says. It has to be morbid fascination, but Sam can’t look away and Dean hasn’t shoved him out the door so…. They watch as Chuck timidly comes to the stage. This guy, Sam thinks. Where the hell does he get off?

Chuck is one of the most awkward people Sam has ever met. It doesn’t say much for God or how he picks his prophets. He asks for questions and nearly every hand in the room goes up. Chuck picks one at random. He’s supposed to be Sam. Yeah, right. Sam isn’t as vain as Dean but…the guy looks nothing like him, too skinny, not enough hair, honestly—a nerd. Sam is already bristly.

“Hey, Mr. Edlund. Uh...big fan.” The nerd says. “I was just wondering, where'd you come up with Sam and Dean in the first place?”

Sam must be stinking up the place with his Alpha rage cause Chuck looks straight at them and is visibly trembling. Dean snorts and they both cock their heads at the same angle to display their ire.

“Oh, ah, I...it just came to me.”

Dean purses his lips and tilts his head back. “I can’t believe this,” he whispers to Sam.

Question answered, the hands go back up and Chuck calls on…Hookman?

The guy has a terrible German accent. Sam’s willing to bet it isn’t even real. He says something about how they should keep their weapons on some kind of bungee. Sam scoffs, but…it’s not the _worst_ idea he’s ever heard. Maybe the guy isn’t so bad.

“Ja, follow up. Why can't Sam and Dean be telling that Ruby is evil?” Hookman says and Sam decides that no, the guy is definitely bad.  "I mean she is clearly manipulating Sam into some kind of moral lapse. It's obvious, nein?”

Sam sees red for a second. Of all the fucking—this has gone on too long. He’s about to stomp toward the stage and declare this mindfuck officially over when Dean holds him back with one raised hand to the center of his chest. _Hold up, Sam. Cool down._

Sam bites his tongue.

Shockingly, it’s Becky to the rescue. She storms toward Hookman, “Hey! If you don't like the books don't read em Fritz.” For a Beta, her death glare is pretty scary. She’s got crazy in her eyes. Sam feels a bit better now that Hookman has been chastised into sitting the fuck down.

Chuck takes another question. “Yeah, at the end of the last book, Dean goes to hell. So, what happens next?”

Chuck looks supremely uncomfortable and that does not bode well for the Winchesters. “Oh. Well there lies an announcement, actually. You're all going to find out. Thanks to a wealthy Scandinavian investor, we're going to start publishing again.” He glances up and then back down as the room erupts into screams and cheers. Sam feels like his heart is in his ass.

Chuck’s gonna tell the whole damn world about what happened to Dean in Hell, how he was tortured by Alistair, and how he eventually picked up the blade. He’s going to tell everyone how Sam cried like a little bitch for weeks and begged anyone who would listen to take his soul instead. He’s going to tell them about how ‘no, Fritz’ it _wasn’t_ obvious to Sam that Ruby was leading him toward the ultimate moral lapse. Oh— _God_ —he’s going to tell them about how he destroyed Dean, raped him, and opened the gates of fucking Hell.

Sam storms out of the room, almost hitting Dean with the door when he slams it back.

“Sam. Hold up,” Dean barks.

“Give me a fucking minute, Dean!” He can’t help using his Alpha Voice. He needs to get the hell away from everyone in that room before he starts breaking necks. He storms into the men’s room in the lobby and the one guy in there taking a piss takes one look at Sam before he zips up and leaves without washing his hands. Sam paces the sterile white bathroom for a few seconds before he locks himself in a stall and digs out the demon-killing knife. Legs are safest, but he’s not interested in safe. He cuts a deep line on the top side of his of forearm and runs the blade several inches. His flesh opens up like a tender filet and blood gushes down his arm.

“Stupid!” Sam admonishes himself and drops the knife to hold the flesh together. “You’re a fucking idiot, Sam.” Tears burn his eyes and adrenaline makes the problem worse as crimson bulges between his fingers, but he wants this. He raises his arm above his head and braces it high against the wall. He licks at his bloody fingers and welcomes the high of rapid blood loss. “Fucking stupid,” he whispers on repeat. “Fucking stupid.”

It can’t have been more than a few minutes since Sam locked himself in the stall when he hears the bathroom door slowly open. Sam’s heart picks up several beats. It’s too soon. He needs more time to get himself together. He should’ve been more specific with his command.

“Sam?” Dean steps in slowly.

“No,” Sam grits out, afraid to use more words.

“Smells like blood in here, Sam.” Sam can smell Dean’s panic, but his older brother’s voice is calm and soothing. “You need some help?” He steps in front of the stall but doesn’t open it. Sam can feel Dean’s eyes on him through the gap in the door.

If Sam could summon a hole in the ground to swallow him up, he would. Right now, he’s the most pathetic fucking thing that ever lived and he can’t live with the fact that Dean is looking at him, seeing him like this, _forced_ to take care of him. “No,” he says.

Dean smells irritated and Sam curls away from it. Dean huffs. “I’m not… _judging you_ —okay? Just let me in. Or at least, don’t go all Alpha when I come in anyway.”

Sam forces himself to take several deep breaths. He’s more than a little high now, lightheaded…whatever. “Can you…first aid kit’s in the car.” Dean doesn’t move. “I’m okay. I’ll wait here.”

Dean’s back in less than five minutes and he doesn’t wait for Sam to say it’s okay, he just opens the stall door and herds Sam toward the sink with a hand on his elbow to keep his arm up and one on his back. Sam wishes he could feel him better through his jacket.

“Alright,” Dean says. “Lemme see.”

Sam shakes his head. “I gotta hold it together.”

Dean’s reflection goes pale in the mirror. “Jesus, Sam. What the fuck is wrong with you?” When Sam flinches, Dean rolls his eyes. “Sorry. Nevermind.” He guides Sam’s arm beneath the faucet and dumps iodine over Sam’s hand and the whole mess. He stiches Sam up quietly, waiting for him to move his hand up a little higher as Dean closes the wound from bottom to top. When Sam pulls his hand away to reveal five inches of black thread and orange skin, Dean finally breaks. “Tell me why.”

Sam shrugs. “I just…I needed to.” _It takes the pain away._

“I don’t understand, Sam. You’re gonna have to do better. You’ve…there’s blood around your face, I thought you kicked this.”

Goddamn it, it hurts. “I did, Dean! It’s _my_ blood, okay. I’m not hurting anybody, or feening for bitch-blood, or whatever the hell else you’re thinking.”

Dean shoves him back against the wall. “I know it’s your blood, Sam. I could fucking smell it from the lobby. You’re lucky everyone’s in the conference room with Chuck.” He bounces Sam against the wall with a sharp jab against his shoulder. “Why are you cutting yourself and why the fuck are you drinking it. You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know this isn’t the first time? Cause you keeping secrets,” he accuses, “that’s what lead us to where we are.”

Sam spins around and presses his forehead to the cool tile of the wall. “I’m sorry, Dean.  You…deserve better than this, okay, better than me, and my bullshit, and I—I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

“With what, Sam?” Dean presses.

“With me!” Sam growls. “You said it yourself, okay. You hate me. I fucking raped you, betrayed you.” Sam refuses to start crying again. “You’re just keeping me around so I don’t say yes to the devil and I know it’s more than I deserve so…. It makes me feel better.” Dean’s quiet. “I freaked out a little. Fucking Chuck! He’s gonna tell everybody and…even strangers are gonna hate me. And I’m so fucking sorry, but there’s no one…no God, or you, and I know it’s my fault but I can’t get it out, okay? I can’t—at least this way—it just feels better. So please…. I won’t make it your problem again. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me for this.”

Dean reeks of too many emotions to be able to pinpoint a dominant scent. It’s obvious Sam’s dropped yet another bomb on his brother, although, it probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Dean knows what they’re up against just as well as Sam does.

Dean’s steps take him away from Sam and toward the stall. He picks up the knife and there’s silence for several seconds before he heads toward the sink to rinse it off. “Let’s clean this up and get a drink, Sam. I could use a fucking drink.”

Sam nods. “Yeah. Okay, Dean.” Sam feels numb and floaty, like every emotion has been drained away and now he can function on autopilot. It’s a close to peace as he gets these days.

It should come as no surprise that the first person they see on their way to the bar is none other than Chuck and Becky. Sam pauses mid stride and glances over to Dean to see what he’d like to do. His brother’s beautiful face is scrunched in anger. “Come on, Sam.” He strides toward Chuck and Becky with determined steps. Sam follows.

Becky’s eyes light up when she sees Sam. The woman has no ability to read a situation or is otherwise the coolest cucumber Sam has encountered. “Oh hi, Sam!” Sam acknowledges her briefly before setting his eyes on Chuck.

Dean sets in immediately. “In case you haven't noticed, our plates are kind of full, ok? Finding the Colt, hunting the devil. We don't have time for this crap.” Sam backs up his brother with a glare at Chuck, but his head is still swimmy and Becky is still giving him the fuck me eyes, so it might not look as intimidating as he’d like.

Chuck deflects, “Hey, I didn't call you!” It’s obvious what Dean’s talking about and it pisses Sam off all over again how much Chuck knows about their lives while pretending he doesn’t.

“He means the books, Chuck,” Sam growls, “Why are you publishing more books?”

“Um...for food and shelter?”

Dean leans over Chuck’s chair, the most ominous Omega to ever exist. “Who gave you the rights to our life story?”

If Sam weren’t two pints low on blood he might punch Chuck in the face for daring to raise his voice at Dean. “An Archangel, and I didn't want it!”

Still, Sam adds his own threatening stance behind Dean. “Well, deal's off, ok. No more books. Our lives are not for public consumption.”

Becky, finally reading the room manages to excuse herself before Chuck responds to the brothers. Once she’s gone, the prophet seems more remorseful. “Do you guys know what I do for a living?”

“Yeah Chuck, we know,” Sam says.

“Then could you tell me? Cause I don't, all right? I'm not a good writer. I've got no marketable skills. I'm not some hero who can just hit the road and fight monsters, Ok? Until the world ends, I gotta live, all right? And the Supernatural books are all I've got. What else do you want me to do?”  
Dean looks like he’s about to tell Chuck he can go fuck himself when they hear a woman scream and their instincts kick into action. Dean takes off at a run and Sam is quick on his heels. They find one of the maids crouched down in the corner and they help her up.

“Hey, are you ok?” Sam asks.

“What happened,” demands Dean.

“I saw a ghost,” she says. Sam can’t believe they’ve caught a case, here of all places. He realizes how complicated it’s going to get when a crowd of would-be hunters begins to gather behind them.

One of them, the self-professed ‘Sam’ from earlier uses an exaggeratedly deep voice to say, “A ghost? Could you tell us what it looked like?”

Beside him, Dean rolls his eyes. “Why don't you leave this to the grownups pal?”

The maid suddenly looks excited, “A woman. She was in an old fashioned dress. Really old. Like a schoolmarm or something?”

A short and round ‘Dean’ responds, “Did she say something to you?”

Sam begins to suspect this is another ridiculous convention event when the maid begins to break character and grin. “Okay,” she says, raising her voice, “Gather close everybody, for a terrifying tale of terror. I saw, a ghost!”

“Oh, God,” Dean groans and walks away. As he and Dean make their way back toward the bar, presumably to continue reading Chuck the riot act, Becky appears.

“Oooo, the LARPing's started.” She hands Sam a piece of paper that he reluctantly takes.

Sam reads aloud. “Dad's Journal. Dear Sam and Dean, this hotel is haunted. You must hunt down the ghost. Interview witnesses, discover clues, and find the bones. First team to do so wins a $50 gift card to Sizzler. Love Dad" He would laugh if this whole thing wasn’t so tragic. Or if the world weren’t ending. Dean would love to eat $50 worth of Sizzler.

“You guys are soooo gonna win,” exclaims Becky.

“Well that's just about all the community theatre I can take,” replies Dean and they continue toward the bar. Sam doesn’t think this can get worse, but as usual lately, he is wrong.

The nerdy Sam and chubby Dean walk past them while talking in their deep voices. “Dad said...he said I may have to kill you,” growls chubby Dean.

“Kill me?” replies nerdy Sam, “What the hell does that mean?”

“I don't know.”

Sam can’t help the flush that crawls up his face. He’s surprised he has the blood to spare. He and Dean share an uncomfortable look and speak in unison, “I need a drink.”

Dean wastes no time in knocking back a set of whiskey’s before he even sits down. This is probably much more difficult for Dean and Sam internally kicks himself for being selfish. He orders a light beer and mentally prepares himself to tuck Dean into the car and drive them far away from here.

“I’m sorry about earlier, Dean. I know you don’t need any more crap piled on your shoulders. I kinda lost it for a second.” Sam pulls deeply on his beer and looks away.

Dean orders another shot. “S’fine, Sam. You good now?”

“Yeah,” he lies and they sit in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Maybe Sam should read the Supernatural books. Dean read some of them and said he was ‘full frontal’ in them. Sam’s skin warms. He shouldn’t think about Dean like that while they’re sitting so close. Dean gets weird when Sam’s body reacts to his mate and it makes him feel like a creep. Sure enough, Dean scoots away ever so slightly. Sam grimaces and orders another beer while he chugs the one in his hand. He feels a little buzzed after only a single beer. He’s always been a lightweight, but he’s also low on blood and the feeling is kinda nice. He gets why Dean drinks so much.

A few minutes later, and four shots in, Dean starts flirting with one of the Omega LARPers sitting next to him at the bar. The female Omega is dressed as the ghost of Leticia Gore, the woman who actually committed a murder-suicide in the hotel about a century ago. It kinda makes Sam feel like shit, but not for the obvious reasons. Does Sam wish Dean would, even once, look at him like that again? Absolutely.  But more than anything, Sam wishes he could give Dean back this part of himself. There was a time when no Omega within a ten-mile radius could resist Dean’s brand of charm. Maybe it’s the drink that makes him brave, but Sam’s been doing some reading and he thinks perhaps this is his chance to make something right for Dean.

“Uh…” Sam begins. He clears his throat. “So, Dean.”

Dean turns his head toward him in annoyance. “Yeah?”

Sam shifts under the scrutiny. “I’ve been doing some reading and, please hear me out, but….” He squirms.

“Sam! Get it out or don’t, man. This whole bashful Alpha thing is annoying.”

“Of course. Sorry. Anyway, I’ve been doing some reading and it turns out…Omegas can, uh. Cause typically they have to have their Alpha around but, it’s a scent thing, right? So, maybe the Alpha doesn’t really have to be there.” Sam’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. “As long as they can smell their Alpha they should be able to…you know.” _Get an erection._ Sam downs the rest of his beer and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Dean gawks at Sam in open shock. “You’ve been reading about this?”

“I’m jussayin’” Sam slurs, “I could…like in a bottle or something…and then you could like— _useitaslube_?”

Dean looks around the bar like Sam just shouted the words for the world to hear. His embarrassment wafts up toward Sam’s nose and the tips of his ears are scarlet. “What the fuck? Sam!”

Sam dips his head. “I just thought—”

Dean stands up and slams a fifty on the bar. “You just thought nothing. Let’s get outta here.”

Sam slides out of his seat and turns to leave when they both overhear one of the LARPers speaking frantically to one of his friends. “For the last time I'm not making this up, ok? She's upstairs, a real live dead ghost!”

Dean interjects immediately, “Excuse me. You saw something?”

The guy turns to Dean, “This isn't part of the game jerk.” He turns back toward his friend, “Look, I'm getting out of here and you should do the same.” He storms out of the bar with his friend on his heels shouting for him to wait.

“What do you think?” asks Sam. He’s obviously shit at making decisions today.

“I don't think that guy's a good enough an actor to be acting.”

-666-

It’s been the weirdest damn day. Turns out, the ghost of Leticia Gore _was_ haunting the place—along with the four children she was accused of murdering. Even stranger, she was the good guy in all this, keeping the three little jerks who scalped her son from killing guests until Sam and Dean accidentally torched her bones. Still, they managed to save the day with the help of Barnes and Demian, formerly known as Nerdy Sam and Chubby Dean—those guys turned out to be some real hunters. That said, it’s been 36 hours without sleep for the real Sam and Dean and they can’t help but take the hotel up on the offer of a free night.

“You can have the first shower if you want it, Dean.” Sam sits on his bed and unlaces his shoes. He’d love to crawl in bed but he’s covered in grave dirt.

Instead of heading straight for the shower, Dean paces slowly by his own bed. “That uh…Omega, the one dressed as Leticia?” Sam looks up at his mate quizzically. “She caught up with me in the lobby. You know she works for Hooters?” He chuckles and clears his throat.

“Dean?” Sam feels his heart pick up.

“Anyway, she’s kinda freaky…into all kinda stuff and well…it’s been a long time for me and you were talking about all that stuff earlier, the things you were reading and at first I was like ‘that’s fucking weird’ but now I’m thinking about it and maybe like for research or whatever, mostly to see if it even works I was thinking that maybe uh I should probably try it cause you know the world’s ending and….” Dean finally stops to breathe. “So…yeah.” He stands still, waiting for Sam to answer.

Sam tries not to let his hurt show, tries not to feel it at all. He gets the words out as quick as he can. “Sure, Dean. It’s worth a shot. I’ll just…in the shower. Give me like...ten minutes?”

Dean sighs with relief. “Yeah, Sam. Um…here.” He tosses Sam an empty travel bottle. “Gift shop.”

Sam snatches it out of the air and tries not to crush it in his fist. He stands and makes his way toward the bathroom for the most awkward jerk-off session since he hit puberty. He makes it quick and efficient, shocked he can even get his dick to work considering he’s crying his way through it—and wouldn’t the old Dean get a laugh out of that! He tosses the bottle out of the bathroom and turns up the heat on the water. Dean can find somewhere else to shower.

-666-

Sam wakes up alone in the hotel room in the morning. He thought he would feel depressed or empty, or something. He feels okay. He feels normal, like regular Sam. It takes him a moment to realize that what he feels is the absence of guilt. He has no idea how things went for Dean, but at least he tried to do something right for his brother, and he really does hope it worked.

For the first time in months, Sam smiles and feels ready to face the day. It’s a feeling that stays with him as he gets dressed and packs up his duffle bag. He leaves Dean’s stuff in the room in case he didn’t take a fresh change of clothes with him last night. He has breakfast in the lobby—fresh fruit and yogurt with a bowl of Corn Flakes. He’s almost done when he spots Dean whistling his way toward him, as fresh as a daisy.

“Hey,” Dean says. “This place have good coffee?”

Sam can’t tell if Dean’s gloating or just well rested, but his smile is nice to see. “Dunno, I was gonna grab some on the way out. Almost done with breakfast. You want me to pack up the Impala?”

“Nah, already did that. I’m gonna grab a cup and make sure our doppelgangers are okay after they popped their hunting cherry. Meet you out there in ten?”

“Sounds good.”

“’Kay.” Dean turns away to head toward the coffee and then turns back, “Oh and…thanks.” He walks away before Sam can say anything.

Sam ignores the sharp pang in his chest and decides to embrace the feeling of pride just beneath it instead.

“Good for you, Dean,” Sam mutters to himself.

Ten minutes later, after an awkward but illuminating chat with Becky, Sam meets Dean at the Impala. His older brother has a little smile on his face as he looks to be lost in thought. This trip has been far from a bust. “You ok?” Sam inquires, eager to know what’s making Dean smile.

“Yeah, you know? I think I'm good.” Dean leaves it at that. Sam can respect it.

“Well, you're not going to believe it, but I got a lead on the Colt.” He grins wide at Dean. They really should read those Supernatural books.

“What?” Dean gapes.

“Long story, I'll tell you on the way?”

“What are we waiting for!” Dean exclaims and opens his door. For the first time in a long time, they ride off with a feeling of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update, I'm still renovating my house and unpacking boxes. Also, some ppl where kinda dicks about the story and it put me off, but I'm not writing for them, I'm writing for the ppl who want to read it. Kudos and constructive/appreciative comments are succor for my dark soul. Thanks for reading, I think the next episode might be a combo of 'Abandon All Hope' and 'My Bloody Valentine', but I'm not sure yet. I think this whole thing is going to end with 'Swan Song'. Obvi.


	8. Chapter 8

**Abandon All Hope**

It’s a clear night. The black canopy above Sam is littered with vibrant stars and the wind, while brisk, is gentle as it passes through the various junk cars in Bobby’s lot. He’s propped up against the back windshield of a 1972 El Camino and the back bed is actually long enough for him to stretch his legs out. He takes a sip from his beer and in those precious moments as the carbonated liquid gathers at the back of his tongue and fizzes its way down his throat, Sam thinks everything might be okay. They might actually kill Lucifer—Prince of Hell—Lord of Darkness—the goddamn Anti-Christ. He exhales a long-winded and relieved sigh. Then he remembers it’s far more likely they’ll fail and die. Sam rolls his head along the window and takes another drink—tries to get that moment back.

Sam couldn’t stay inside Bobby’s house after the picture; too many alphas; too much lust and desperation. Jo’s a beta though, Sam muses, and maybe that’s what Dean needs. He doesn’t need some Alpha reminding him of what he was, and what he is, and whose fault it is. He doesn’t need an omega to make him feel the difference in his body. Jo’s a beta. That’s good, Sam thinks. Maybe if Sam weren’t such a fuck-up, it would be him with Dean, and maybe he could be the one to give Dean everything he deserves. It’s too late now, though. They’re all going to die tomorrow.

As far as last night’s on Earth go, this one hasn’t been so bad. They killed a few demons, got The Colt, spent time with friends, and Dean even teased him a bit. _Sam Winchester, having trust issues with a demon. Well, better late than never._ Goddamn Dean is beautiful, that toothy smile surrounded by those ever-wet, pink lips. His eyes were a brighter green than Sam has seen in long while, not since his change. A sweet, mischievous, and unfettered man, so much like the old Dean. Sam’s glad he got to see that Dean again, one last time. Whatever happens tomorrow; today has been as good as a Winchester day gets. Sam keeps his eyes on the grandeur of the night sky and allows for the tears gathered in his eyes to go unchecked.

“Hey, Samantha! You out here?” Dean calls. Sam can hear the thud-slide of Dean’s drunken steps as he makes his way closer to their old hang out spot.

“Yeah!” Sam calls back as he sits up straighter and swipes his eyes quickly.

Dean slaps both his hands on the edge of the bed and rocks the car from side to side. “You just left.” He gives Sam one of his megawatt smiles. “You come out here to jerk your chicken? No need, little brother, struck out with Jo.”

Sam laughs. “You’re disgusting, Dean.” Sam looks at his brother with all the fondness he feels and his heart skips a beat when Dean shrugs his shoulder. _Aw shucks._ Dean climbs over the side of the bed and Sam automatically slides over to make room.

“She’s too good for me anyway,” Dean grunts out as he makes himself comfortable next to Sam. He lets their arms, hips, and legs touch all along one side. It’s nostalgic and it’s new. It reminds Sam of when they were boys and it makes him ache for what he’s been missing since Dean went to Hell.

“I don’t know,” Sam says and it comes out sounding wet before Sam clears his throat. “She could do worse than the guy who's gonna save the world.”

Dean’s eyebrows go up when he smirks. “I already tried that one.” They look into one another’s eyes for a long second, sharing the joke, and carefully avoiding a landmine of emotion. “So,” Dean looks away and fishes in his coat, their dad’s coat, and pulls out a half-full bottle of whiskey. “Since I’m not gonna get laid tonight, figured I’d keep the other guy who's gonna save the world company.” Dean takes a long drink before tipping the bottle toward Sam, who takes it silently and drinks deeply.

They drink until the bottle is gone.

“You really think we can do it, Dean?” Sam’s fingers pluck at the leg seam of Dean’s jeans. The mood is easy and comfortable. They’re more than a little drunk and everything between them feels liquid and solid, a state within a state, a safe place inside the eye of a hurricane.

Dean’s hand lands on Sam’s wrist, his fingers settle Sam’s fidgeting fingers. “’Course, Sammy. Wouldn’t risk us all like this if I didn’t think so.” He sighs, “Not gonna feed my friends into a grinder this time. Not gonna fucking miss.” He grips Sam’s wrist tight before he slowly lets go. “Devil won’t be in your body this time.”

If Sam weren’t numbed by alcohol, his chest might crack clean open to let out the swell of love Sam feels for Dean in that moment. Luckily, he’s able to keep it in check. Still, his throat is hoarse when he replies. “This is the way it should be, Dean. You and me, kicking its ass together.” He swallows. “M’sorry I ever forgot that.” He wishes he could do what his body wants, turn into Dean and kiss him the way he’s always wanted. With all the tenderness and affection Dean deserves, all the love. This will have to be enough, though—this soft and sacred moment where they’re brothers, and the night is beautiful, and they have hope.

“Yeah, alright,” Dean grouses and turns on his side, away from Sam. “Goodnight, bitch.”

Sam smiles and mirrors Dean’s position, scoots his back as far into Dean as he can and pillows his head on his own arm. “Night, jerk.”

Sam falls asleep to the lullaby of Dean’s gentle snores.  

**—666—**

They lost Cas almost as soon as the mission began. Then Meg showed up with a pack of hellhounds and things went from bad to worse. Jo saved Dean’s life and took a swipe across her waist for her trouble. They managed to get inside a hardware store and seal themselves inside while Ellen held her daughter together with her bare hands and a flannel shirt. A few hours later, Jo and Ellen made the ultimate sacrifice to give Sam and Dean a chance to get their shot at Lucifer. They don’t have time to mourn. They have Lucifer in their sights as he shovels dirt into a pit. He’s summoning Death, the Pale Horseman of the Apocalypse. They have The Colt and it’s only a few minutes to midnight.

“Last words?” Sam says to Dean. Every cell in his body is telling him this is wrong, not to let Dean step out there to face The Devil; he ignores them. He believes in his brother, his mate.

Dean looks at Sam, a little exasperated, but steadfast as ever. “I think I’m good.”

Sam nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Here goes nothing.” Dean gives him the signal to go and Sam follows the order without hesitation.

“Hey!” Sam shouts toward Lucifer, completely ignoring the crowd of possessed townspeople surrounding him. He readies his shotgun. “You wanted to see me?” His thoughts are entirely with Dean, even if he has to will himself not to look in his direction and give him away.

Lucifer stops shoveling and slowly turns to acknowledge Sam. His vessel looks like it’s been left out in the desert without water. His lips crack when he smiles at Sam, amused by his shotgun.

“Oh, Sam, you don't need that gun here. You know I'd never hurt you.” There’s a nefarious gleam to his eyes, “Not really.”

“Yeah?” Dean puts The Colt to Lucifer’s head.   _You got ‘em, Dean._ “Well, I'd hurt you.” Dean puts a round in Lucifer’s head at point-blank range aand The Devil crumples to the ground in a rotted heap. No one moves, not Dean, or the demons, or Sam, they all stand and stare in shock.

The Devil is dead.

Dean’s the first to shift his eyes away. He looks directly at Sam and cautiously smiles. Sam is still too shocked to speak, but he tries to return the smile before Dean cuts back to Lucifer.

Then everything slows way down. Lucifer coughs. His body twitches. Dean’s panicked eyes look for Sam and Sam feels like his heart is up in this throat. _Oh, god. Oh, please. No!_

 _“_ Owww!” Lucifer whines. He rubs his head where the bullet went in and it disappears. He stands up next to Dean, who hasn’t mustered the wherewithal to run away. “Where did you get that?”

“Dean!” Sam shouts and breaks into a run toward his mate. He watches in horror as Dean makes to run and Lucifer punches him to the ground with such force he’s instantly unconscious. Sam stops dead in his tracks when Lucifer places his foot on the back of Dean’s neck. “Wait! Please, don’t!” His knees hit the dirt, gun forgotten. “Don’t.”

Lucifer smiles. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sam. I know how much big brother means to you. I kill him and well…I’m pretty sure you won’t say yes.” He takes his foot off Dean’s neck and rolls him over with his foot. “See? Still breathing.”

“You listen to me, you son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill you myself, you understand me? I'm going to rip your heart out!” Sam stands up and takes a few steps closer to Dean, splitting his focus between his mate and The Devil. He has no idea how he’s going to get them out of here.

“That's good, Sam. You keep fanning that fire in your belly. All that pent-up rage. I'm gonna need it.” Lucifer winks at Sam and goes back to shoveling. Completely unconcerned with Sam’s presence. “Don't feel too bad, Sam. There's only five things in all of creation that that gun can't kill, and I just happen to be one of them. But if you give me a minute, I'm almost done.” Lucifer picks up the shovel and continues scooping dirt. Sam lunges forward to grab Dean by his coat.

Sam lands on his ass before he knows what happened. He scrambles to get back on his feet and face Lucifer who has Dean hoisted up on his knees by his coat. His brother’s head hangs limp against his chest, his shoulders up by his ears. It sets Sam’s teeth on edge.  “Let him go.”

Lucifer plants his shovel in the dirt and tilt’s Deans chin up. He smiles wickedly at Sam as he strokes Dean’s cheek with his dirty fingers. “You know, I don't suppose you'd just say yes here and now? End this whole tiresome discussion? That's crazy, right?”

 _Anything. Anything! Don’t hurt him._ “It's never gonna happen!” Sam tries to sound convincing despite the desperation in his voice and the tears in his eyes. He can’t say yes. Dean would rather die.

“Oh, I don't know, Sam.” Lucifer crouches behind Dean and bites his ear. Sam looks away sharply and tries to breathe through the searing rage running through him. “I think it will,” he says, “I think it'll happen ssoon. And I think it'll happen in Detroit.”

Sam looks back to Lucifer and forces himself to calm down. He can’t allow himself to fall for Lucifer’s antics, even if all he wants is to get Dean back to safety. “What did you do to this town?”

Lucifer keeps petting Dean, taunting Sam in the most effective way possible. He speaks to Sam like they’re old friends. “Oh, I was very generous with this town. One demon for every able-bodied man.”

Sam shudders. “And the rest of them?”

Lucifer pauses in his gentle assault of Dean to stand up. He hoists Dean up as though he weighs nothing and swings his body toward the pile of dirt Lucifer has been shoveling. “In there. I know, it's awful, but these horsemen are so demanding.” He dangles Dean above the pit.

“Lucifer! _I swear!”_ Sam bounces in place, unsure how to finish his sentence.

Lucifer chuckles toward the sky and reels Dean back in, pushes their bodies together, chests touching. When he gives his attention back to Sam, his expression is wistful. “I know what you must think of me, Sam. But I have to do this. I have to. You of all people should understand.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Sam can’t tear his eyes away from the tableau in front of him. The Devil standing atop dozens of dead bodies with Sam’s mate hanging limp in his embrace.

Lucifer considers Dean like a collector appraises a rare artifact. “I was a son. A brother, like you, a younger brother, and I had an older brother who I loved.” He nuzzles Dean’s cheek with his own. “This is Michael’s vessel, you know? This body—it’s meant for my brother.” He holds Dean closer, until his head flops forward onto Lucifer’s chest. “I idolized him, in fact. And one day I went to him and I begged him to stand with me, and Michael—” Sam watches, frozen in place, as Lucifer pulls Dean’s head back with a fist in his hair. “Michael turned on me. Called me a freak. A monster. And then he beat me down. All because I was different. Because I had a mind of my own.” Lucifer releases Dean and he drops like a sack. “Tell me something, Sam,” Lucifer growls. His eyes glow red in the dark. “Any of this sound familiar?”

“Dean wouldn’t do that! He’s never given up on me. Not even when I deserved it, not even after you sent your hell-bitch to fuck with my head!” Sam can’t hold his angry tears back any longer. “Michael doesn’t deserve him. None of you do!”

Lucifer laughs. “You’ll see, Sam. He’ll turn on you. And when he does, you’ll come to me, because I’ll be the only one who can keep him alive.” Lucifer kicks Dean down the hill toward Sam. “Anyway. You'll have to excuse me. Midnight is calling and I have a ritual to finish. Don't go anywhere. Not that you could if you would.”

Sam rushes to Dean’s side and hauls him up into his arms. His hands explore him from the top of his head to his beating heart, to his pulsing jugular. Sam breathes a sigh of relief and presses hard kisses to Dean’s face. In the background Lucifer has begun his ritual.

“Now repeat after me. We offer up our lives, blood, souls—”

“We offer up our lives, blood, souls—” The demons chant.

“To complete this tribute.”

“To complete this tribute.”

Dean stirs in Sam’s arms and finally begins to open his eyes. He looks confused and a little frightened of Sam. There’s no time to explain. “We have to get out of here, Dean.” Dean nods and looks around as one by one the demons begin to flash gold and fall over, dead. Sam and Dean look first to one another and then to Lucifer.

He shrugs, “What? They're just demons.” He turns back toward the mass grave, his back to the Winchesters.

The ground rumbles and a feeling of impending doom envelops them. They cling to each other just as they did when Lucifer began to break free of his cage. Dean shakes Sam. “We gotta go, Sam.” Sam comes out of his trance and manages to get them both on their feet. Dean’s a little woozy but he gets it together fast. They make a break for the trees and run straight into Castiel.

**—666—**

They’re all silent as they watch the picture Bobby took last night burn in the fireplace. Ellen and Jo will never receive a proper funeral, and their deaths are meaningless when faced with their epic failure. Each of them, Sam, Dean, Bobby, and even Cas, are no longer who they were yesterday. There’s no room left for hope.

Dean turns away from the flames and silently walks away. He’s halfway out the door before Sam realizes what he means to do. “No,” he says and starts for the door. He trips on Bobby’s wheelchair, but gets up fast. He’s only seconds behind Dean, who breaks into a run. “Dean! No!” But Sam is too late. The taillights to the Impala glow red against the pitch darkness.

Bobby wheels up behind him. “Aww, hell. Where the hell’s he goin'?”

Sam swallows the bile in mouth. “He’s gonna say yes, Bobby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful comments, last chapter. I truly appreciate you sticking with me and your feedback.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deviation from canon in this chapter and possibly from here forward. Please let me know what you think because this chapter kind of took me by surprise.

**Point of No Return**

As soon as Sam sees the Impala race away and turn left out of Bobby’s lot he demands the keys to the older man’s truck. There’s only one East/West major highway in and out of Sioux Falls, but there are plenty of truck routes and Dean knows them all; Sam’s never going to outsmart him trying to catch up. The only advantage Sam has is how well he knows his brother. If this is the end and he’s decided to throw in the towel, Dean won’t do it without handling his unfinished business. Cicero, Indiana is under twelve hours away, Dean will probably make it in ten and despite the fact it’s 3am Sam is sure Dean won’t stop until he makes it into town. Sam ignores the pang of jealousy he feels at the knowledge that Lisa Braeden still means so much to Dean.

If their lives hadn’t been destined for sacrifice and misery maybe Dean might have ended up with an Omega like Lisa, or Lisa herself. Maybe they’d have a couple of kids and live in the suburbs. Dean would have been a great dad, Sam knows, because for most of his life, Dean was the one to raise him.

Sam exhales and presses down on the accelerator at the same time. His life is exhausting. He understands why Dean wants to give up, just give in and let it all go to shit. They’ve spent their entire lives saving people and hunting things, for what? Sam has lost every person he’s ever loved in one way or another.

_“You’ll see, Sam. He’ll turn on you. And when he does, you’ll come to me, because I’ll be the only one who can keep him alive.”_

“He’s Lucifer, Sam. He’s a liar,” he reminds himself out loud. He’s lived in the Impala most of his life; driving Bobby’s truck should be comfortable, but he’s not used to being alone, without music or Dean, and he certainly isn’t accustomed to doing the driving. It feels a little like shooting with his left hand. “Dean loves you, Sam; he does. He sold his soul for you. He went to Hell. He…” Sam’s chest is tight. “He came back after you raped him.” It’s difficult to say these things out loud, even when he’s alone, but he has to remind himself of the things he’s done to Dean, the things he owes his brother. The truth is it’s far more likely Sam will turn on Dean than the other way around. Sam’s already done it and Dean has proven his loyalty above and beyond what Heaven or Hell or Sam could expect.

He wonders if his pursuit of Dean isn’t entirely selfish. Dean is trying to save the world by doing what he’s always done. No one does personal sacrifice quite like Dean. He’s the best kind of person. The best Sam has ever known and he burns with shame at how he’s been treated. Dean has always loved Sam above everything and anyone. Sam took that love for granted. He should have seen the way Dean puts himself dead last, every time. Sam should have put him first. It’s been almost a year since that awful night with Ruby and Dean, about eight months he’s been clean of demon blood. It’s a tragedy that it’s taken all that for Sam to finally see Dean for who he’s been all along. He wonders if there’s still time to set things right for Dean—if there’s a way he can become the man Dean wanted him to be.

Sam swallows thickly and checks the GPS. It’s going to be a very long night, and he has nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company.

**—666—**

Dean has earned his privacy. Sam doesn’t intrude by going to Lisa’s. He kills time by driving around looking for motels obscure enough not to appear on any web searches, places with parking near the front door where Dean can keep an eye on his precious Baby. Once he’s narrowed it down to a place in town called _Mike’s Travel Inn_ , Sam stops into a Biggerson’s to grab a cheap salad and a stiff cup of coffee.

He’s had a lot to think about and a lot of time to think the last twelve hours. It’s given him a sense of calm and finality. Whatever happens today, Sam’s purpose is clear.

Just before dusk, Sam makes his way toward the motel and smiles when he spots the Impala parked just outside room 100. Sam parks a few spots down from Dean’s room and sits for several moments, collecting himself and reinforcing his resolve. There’s a heavy heat in his chest, it turns his stomach and shortens his breaths. His mouth is dry. He looks at himself in the rearview mirror, runs both hands through his hair, and laments the fact he hasn’t had a shower in thirty-six hours. “Okay, Sam,” he huffs, “You can do this. Do it for Dean.” With that, he exits the truck, makes his way to the door, and walks in without knocking.

Dean turns toward Sam with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a shocked expression on his face. Sam notes the cardboard box on the bed addressed to Bobby and his gut clenches.

“Sending someone a candy-gram?” Sam says.

Dean wipes the surprise off his face quickly. He squares his shoulders and turns away. “How’d you find me?”

Sam takes a deep breath and steps deeper into the room. Dean’s scent is always alluring, but after everything they’ve been through—losing Jo and Ellen—failing to kill Lucifer—Sam just wants to bury his face in Dean’s neck and surround himself with his mate, his brother, his home.  "You’re going to kill yourself, right? It’s not too hard to figure out the stops on the farewell tour. How’s Lisa doing, anyways?” Sam fingers Bobby’s keys to keep from reaching out to touch.

“I’m not going to kill myself,” Dean growls. Sam hates to admit it, but now that Dean’s omega…his scowl is kinda cute.

“No? So Michael’s not about to make you his Muppet?” Sam's smile is wan. “I didn’t come to fight, Dean.”

“Yeah? Then why’d you come? You’re not gonna talk me out of it, Sam.” Dean throws back two fingers of whiskey and refills his glass. “If you Voice me, I swear, the second you turn your back—I’ll put a knife in it.” He glares at Sam from under his lashes and it is significantly less cute.

Sam shakes his head. “No, Dean. None of that.”

“Then what, Sam? What the hell do you want from me?”

“This is how it ends? You just…walk out?” Sam speaks softly but does nothing to hide the pain he’s feeling. “How could you do that?”

Dean exhales hard through his nose. “How could _I_? You got some fucking nerve.”

The words hit hard, but Sam holds himself together. “I meant…without saying goodbye.”

Dean’s shoulders drop. “Damn it, Sammy,” he mutters.

Sam moves toward the bed and sticks the truck keys into the seam of the box to open it up. “This it? Your goodbye?”

“Hey, come on.” Dean tries to shoulder Sam out of the way and get to the box, but Sam uses his larger size to block him as he cuts through the tape.

“What’s the big deal, Dean? You didn’t leave me anything last time. I want to know.” He throws opens the flaps and stares inside. Their dad’s jacket is folded into the box. On top, are the keys to the Impala, Dean’s gun, and a letter. Sam reaches for it and holds it between shaky fingers.

“Don’t read that, Sam. I’m serious.” Dean stalks back to the desk and pours more whiskey. “Not yet.” Sam closes his eyes; they burn. He turns to face Dean and rips the letter in half. “What the hell, Sam!”

“I’m not gonna read it, Dean. Anything you have to say to me, you can say before you give yourself over to Michael.” Sam stands up straight and keeps his eyes focused on Dean. Eventually, the older man looks away to set down his drink.

“There was stuff in there for Bobby too. You bitch.” Dean steps closer to Sam and reaches for the letter. When Sam hands it over, he tosses it in the box. “What happened to ‘no chick flick moments’?”.

Sam smiles. “That was always more your thing, than mine.” He takes a deep breath. “Besides, there’re things I want to say.”

“Sam,” Dean warns.

“I’m garbage, Dean.”

“Sam,” Dean pleads.

“Hear me out. My entire life, all I’ve ever done is worry about myself, the life _I_ wanted to live, what _I_ wanted to do…what _I_ thought was right. I blamed Dad for dragging me around and telling me what to do. I blamed you for always taking his side. I hated you both for always treating me like a kid and never letting me into your relationship. I was jealous. I didn’t know then how much you’d both sacrificed for me. I didn’t appreciate you.”

“Sam,” Dean says and it sounds stuck in his throat.

“Dad went to Hell for you and you went to Hell for me, and I…I lost it. I hit rock bottom. I missed you more than I could bear and I was furious with the both of you, pissed off that you guys left me behind. I went against everything the two of you had ever wanted for me and I let a demon get in my head. I got hooked on her blood and the power it gave me. And by the time you came back…” Sam swallows. “I wasn’t your brother anymore, Dean. I was closer to one of the things we hunt.” He looks Dean in the eyes, ignores Dean’s discomfort and his own sadness. “I did things to you we swore never to do to each other. I betrayed all the love you ever showed me and every lesson Dad tried to beat into my skull. I thought you were weak.” Dean flinches. “I thought I knew best.” Sam reaches for Dean’s hands and is surprised when his brother allows Sam to lift his hand to Sam’s heart. “I was wrong, Dean. And not just because I set Lucifer free, not because my plan didn’t work. I was wrong because I thought the ends justified the means. I put a demon ahead of you. I put my need for revenge ahead of you. I put _myself_ ahead of you. And I was wrong, and I’m sorry.” Sam resists the urge to crush Dean to his chest when his brother’s eyes fill with tears. This is the point of no return. “I’m not going to do it anymore, Dean. I’m going to do what I should’ve done to begin with; I’m going to trust you; I’m gonna back your play.”

“Sammy?” Dean closes the distance between them. He looks up into Sam’s eyes. “What are you sayin’?”

“I’m sayin’” Sam chokes out. “I love you.” He’s never said the words so baldly in his life but the flush in Dean’s cheeks is more than worth it. “Whatever you want to do. Whatever you think is best. I’m with you, Dean. I want to be there with you when it ends.”

Dean lunges toward Sam’s lips with speed and accuracy perfected over a lifetime of hunting and bar hookups. He slides his tongue into Sam’s mouth before the younger man has a chance to react to the impossible fact that Dean. Is kissing. Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, kids...should they...or shouldn't they?
> 
> I didn't expect Sam to agree with Dean. But then I thought: Lucifer's in a weak vessel. The boys don't know about the rings or opening the cage yet, so they really don't have any options. If Michael had his vessel, he could easily take him out. And as for Sam, well...there's always The Colt. The Colt is supposed to be able to destroy anything, not just kill it, but unmake it--why not a soul? Sam couldn't be brought back. Michael, once he's defeated Lucifer, would have the power to restore Dean the same as he did to John (The Song Remains the Same). Anyway, I'm brainstorming. Comments welcomed and encouraged. :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Point of No Return (cont.)**

Sam stands perfectly still, arms at his sides, mouth open for Dean’s tongue, as his brain attempts to reboot. He gets too much credit for being the smart one. His eyes are still open and he’s just staring at the box on the bed while.... Dean is kissing him. Dean’s soft lips are pressed hard against his mouth, warm and slightly chapped. His tongue is deep in Sam’s mouth, swirling against Sam’s tongue, taking up all the space. He tastes like heat, whiskey, and something briny as saliva surges in his mouth. Sam swallows reflexively and inhales deeply through his nose. _Dean._ It’s a jolt to Sam’s system.

Sam’s arms strike out like lightning, snatching Dean closer with an arm across his back and one enormous hand at the back of his head. His eyes slide shut and his mouth finally reacts to Dean’s whiskey-soaked tongue. He pushes into Dean’s mouth with barely restrained ferocity, licking and sucking every surface, desperate for every trace of Dean. Dean moans softly against Sam’s mouth and he answers with a low growl from deep in his chest. He squeezes Dean harder against his body, bending Dean slightly backward as his head angles back to accommodate Sam’s height. Dean’s moan is louder and borders on a whimper. It ignites a frenzy in Sam and he barely acknowledges moving his hands to lift Dean up by his ass, urging the older man to wrap his legs around his waist.

Dean’s fingers curl in Sam’s hair and pull hard enough to sting. He struggles against Sam’s unwavering hold and although he doesn’t want to leave Dean’s mouth—ever—he finally relents and pulls back far enough to let him speak. “Dean,” he pants against his brother’s spit damp lips. “Please.”

Dean is also at a loss for breath, panting heavily against Sam’s face. “Jesus,” he says and places several pecks to Sam’s lips. “Gotta put me down, Sam. ‘Sembarrassing.” His words are contrary to his incessant grinding against Sam’s stomach and grip he has in Sam’s hair which draws him closer. The scent of their combined arousal is thick within the confined space of their embrace. It makes Dean’s eyes glassy and his skin pink, makes the mark on his neck dark and prominent. _Mine!_

Sam lunges for Dean’s mouth, seeking the flavor of his mate, too busy roaming and groping his ass through the infuriating barrier of their jeans to make sense of what Dean is saying. He never wants this to end. He never wants to let Dean go. He can just carry him like this forever, attached at the lips until they die of starvation. _Mine! Forever. Never let you go. Kill them all!_

Dean pulls his mouth away from Sam’s and braces his arm against Sam’s throat to keep him from reclaiming it. “Serious, Sam. Come on.” He looks down at Sam with a mixture of arousal and something else.

Sam licks his lips, relishing the remnants of Dean’s kisses and looks deeply into his eyes. There’s a plea in them, but Sam can’t quite make it out past the fog of his own desperation. He closes his eyes and tilts his nose up. He smells the syrupy cotton-candy scent of Dean’s arousal, but beneath, the acrid stench of apprehension. Sam opens his eyes to see with renewed clarity. He gently sets Dean down on his own two feet, but keeps him close. “I would never hurt you like that again, Dean.” Sam slides down to his knees and rests his head against his brother’s hip, staunchly ignoring the alluring scent of Dean’s dick and the barest hint of his slick. “I’d rather die. I wish I could go back and just….” He swallows the rest.

Dean’s hand lands on his head and strokes gently through his hair. “Come on, Sammy. It’s not…I want to okay? But—my head’s all fucked up. Can’t help it.” He holds Sam’s head firmly to his hip to keep him from slinking away. “Look, you know I’m not into talking about my feelings, so….” Dean takes a deep steadying breath. “I’ve always…,” he begins and trails off. When Sam tries to look up, Dean holds him firm. “No matter what, even when I hate you, I—.” _Love you._ The words go unsaid, but Sam hears them anyway. “It’s been the only sure thing in my life. And…I’d be lying if I said I never thought about it, with us. But Sam…I never wanted to be an Omega. I’m never going to be one-hundred-percent in this body. I don’t know if I can accept you…like that.”

Sam absorbs his brother’s words one at a time as he struggles against the Alpha inside him begging him to claim Dean. It’s a strange thing to be filled with both shame and arousal at once, but Sam is more than his instincts. He’s not that strung out blood junkie version of himself anymore. He can and will control himself. “I understand, Dean,” Sam whispers into Dean’s hip. “I—I get it.” He kisses the tiny strip of skin above Dean’s jeans where his t-shirt has ridden up. “This was…a kiss before the gallows, right?”

Dean chuckles as he continues to stroke Sam’s hair. “Such a bitch, Sam. Shoulda been you.” He tips Sam’s chin up and smiles wide with big-brother glee when Sam inevitably blushes.

Sam stares at Dean’s face and wishes with everything in his heart it had happened that way, without all the suffering. He’s about to say as much when Dean’s smile morphs into something more predatory and reminiscent of Dean’s Alpha self. Sam watches intently as Dean licks his lips and bites down. “But, ya know?” He pauses, “Since you’re down there.” He waggles his eyebrows like an idiot, making Sam laugh despite himself. “Come on, Sammy. Don’t make me waste an erection.”

Sam closes his eyes and inhales, reigning himself in. When he looks back up at Dean, he’s sure he can see the hunger in them. “Fuck, Dean, can’t say shit like that. Not if you don’t mean it.”

“Who says I don’t mean it?” Dean cups the back of Sam’s head as he reaches for the button at the top of his jeans. Dean’s arousal saturates every breath Sam takes, clouding his reason while making him acutely aware of Dean. His brother pulls the button of his jeans through the eye. “I need this, Sam.”

Sam swallows. “Yeah, Dean. Me too.”

It’s almost a race to see who can get Dean’s zipper down first, but ultimately, Sam growls and Dean lets go, opting to grab on to Sam’s head as his fly is opened. Sam wastes no time before grabbing ahold of Dean’s briefs and yanking them down to his knees along with his jeans and wrapping his mouth around the entirety of Dean’s cock.

“Fuck!” Dean cries out as his knees buckle. He remains standing by virtue of his grip in Sam’s hair and the solid wall of Sam’s chest where his knees are braced. He hunches over and gives in to the desire to fuck Sam’s mouth.

Sam groans around his brother’s cock, suckling too greedily, but unable to resist—Dean’s not complaining, so who cares? The salt of Dean’s skin is sucked and swallowed away quicker than Sam likes, but he revels in the weight, and the heat, and the thickness of his brother’s cock as it fills his mouth. The spongy head nudges hard at his tonsils, not enough to choke him, but enough to make Sam’s breathing difficult. Dean’s sparse, auburn pubic hair tickles his nose, cheeks, and chin, surrounding him with pheromones. Sam cups the round, firm globes of Dean’s asscheeks and implores him closer. Sam doesn’t need to breathe; he only needs to be surrounded by Dean.

“Oh god, Sam. I’m gonna come way too fast.” Dean’s words are more of a warning than a request. The bulk of his weight is on Sam, pushing him back toward the bed until Dean has to catch himself on extended arms on the mattress. Sam doesn’t stop or slow down. He moves with Dean, clutching him close and devouring his cock as Dean fucks into his mouth with unrestrained vigor. “Swallow, Sam,” he cries.

Dean’s sweet, thin cum hits the back of Sam’s throat like biting into ripe fruit. He chokes and swallows. He moans as Dean squirts into his mouth again and again, hungry for everything he’s being fed.

“Fuck, Sam. Too much. It’s too much.” Dean’s hips pull back and thrust forward, desperate to get away and equally frantic to ride Sam’s face to the ground.

Sam loosens his grip on Dean’s ass just long enough to grab his hips and move him back to get at his balls. They’re smaller than they were, like his cock, and more delicate like all his newly omega features, but he’s still more impressive than any Omega Sam has ever seen. He licks and laves his lightly furred sac, opening his mouth wide to get both balls into his mouth and swallow around them to soak up every suggestion of Dean. He moans and Dean does too, like an echo of his own pleasure which reverberates throughout his entire psyche.

“’Sthat good?” Dean pants, wriggling in Sam’s grasp.

“Mmmm,” Sam replies around his mouthful. Dean is leaking slick. It’s sliding down from his ass and painting the back of his sac and all Sam wants to do is throw Dean down on the bed and lick him out. He sublimates his desire by alternating between sucking Dean’s balls into his mouth and licking them clean, savoring scraps in the face of a banquet.

Dean’s fingers find their way back into Sam’s hair and tilt his head back. “Look at me, Sam.”

Sam lets his eyes travel up his brother’s body, lamenting the oversight of removing Dean’s shirt, and finally makes eye contact. Sam’s dick throbs painfully as he looks upon Dean’s lust-flushed face, the gleaming emerald of his eyes, his puffy, apple-red lips, swollen from Sam’s kisses, and the dark smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. “So beautiful, Dean,” he says through huffs of breath before he can stop himself.

Dean bites down on his lip and turns a deeper shade of crimson. “Shaddup, Sammy.” He rolls his eyes. “I know I’m pretty. Get your dick out.”

Sam groans and his dick leaps and surges with precum; it hurts like a motherfucker. “Can’t, Dean,” he growls. “I want you too bad.” His fingers tighten on Dean’s hips. “This’s enough,” he lies. Dean’s cock is rousing and Sam can’t resist kissing it as it fattens up and brushes his lips.

Dean throws his head back, exposing the long line of his neck and the jut of his Adam’s apple. It bobs when he swallows. “It’s not fair, Sam.”

Sam graduates from kissing to licking, smears his words across the head of Dean’s cock. “More than fair, Dean. Juss wanna make you happy.”

“Yeah?” Dean moans. “Wanna make me happy?”

“Yes, Dean.” He licks away the precum gathering at Dean’s tip.

“Really?” He angles his hips forward and swivels his hips; paints Sam’s lips.

“I swear.”

Dean’s fingers pull Sam’s head back hard. He ignores Sam’s pained yell and lowers his gorgeous face to Sam’s level. His tongue slides out and licks into Sam’s gaping mouth, tasting himself there. “Then get on the bed, Sam. Let me tie you up.”

Sam’s throat clicks when he swallows. “Why?” he asks, but he’s already nodding.

“Because I’ve never left anyone unsatisfied.” His smile lights up his entire face. “Winchester pride, Sam.”

Sam laughs. “Guess you got a point.”

It takes longer than it should, given that he’s willing, to get Sam naked and tied to the bed. There’s a lot of pushing, and shoving, and stripping, and kissing, and sucking of Dean’s dick before Sam finds himself strapped down and spread-eagle. The position is far from his favorite. He doesn’t like how vulnerable he feels. He likes the reminder of Dean strapped down in a similar position even less, but Sam isn’t about to say no to Dean.

Dean wraps his hand around Sam’s flagging erection and tugs gently. “’M I losing you, Sammy?”

Sam’s focus reenters the present. “What? No way!” An anxious laugh escapes him. “Just…nervous, I guess.”

“Mm,” Dean acknowledges. He keeps his eyes glued to Sam’s as his hand brings Sam back to full hardness in seconds. “Don’t worry, baby brother.” Sam groans and thrusts into Dean’s hand. There’s barely anything to ease the friction.  “I’ll take care of you.” _Take care of Sammy._

“God, Dean,” Sam whines. “Feels so fucking good.” He wants to tell him it’s been a long time since anyone has touched him. How he’s been subsisting on the handful of casual touches Dean has allowed in the past year. How much he’s missed Dean even though he’s been there the entire time. “Don’t stop,” he says instead.

Dean stops.

“Wha...what? Why?” Sam writhes on the mattress. He stares at Dean with his most pathetic set of puppy dog eyes and whimpers when Dean’s tongue darts out to moisten his bottom lip before he bites down. Sam doesn’t have words for the emotions he’s feeling, but he’s sure his scent is giving him away.

Dean swallows thickly. “’Stoo dry. Don’t wanna hurt you.” Never tearing his eyes away from Sam he reaches between his own legs, back behind his balls where they both know he’s dripping wet.

Sam’s entire body pulls on his restraints at once, shaking the bed and jostling them both. His breathing gets deep and fast. “Dean,” he says through gritted teeth.

Dean’s breaths aren’t any more steady than Sam’s. “Whoa, easy tiger.” He places one hand at the center of Sam’s chest and spreads his legs for access and balance. He closes his eyes and moans as he slips a finger into himself. There’s mischief in his gaze when he reopens them to look at Sam. “It's really weird getting wet back there, but I gotta admit, feels pretty damn nice. I don't think I've ever come so hard as when Leticia Gore put her little fist in there.”

“Goddamn it, Dean,” Sam whines.

“She didn't even touch my dick.” The sound Sam makes after hearing that is something Dean will undoubtedly tease him for later, but Sam doesn't have the good sense to be embarrassed. He's too focused on the way Dean is looking down on him, the way his eyes cut back and forth from his cock to his face as he fingers himself. When little ah-ah-ah’s start escaping Dean, Sam makes the sound again. “Patience, Sam.” Dean's movements increase, jostling his cock and balls, dripping precum on Sam’s thigh. “Stuff is slicker than spit. Gonna feel amazing”

“Sit on my face!” Sam barely keeps the command out of his voice but manages by force of will. “Let me taste you, Dean. I’m so goddamn close, you have no idea.”

“Yeah?” One of his long, bow legs straddles Sam’s hips. “You wanna taste this ass, Sammy?”

Sam unwittingly bucks, lifting Dean so he has to catch himself on Sam's chest. His hand lands with a wet splat and an explosion of pheromones. “Fuck!” Sam exclaims, bouncing his brother on his lap and spreading his slick everywhere. “Fucking, fuck.”

Dean doesn't miss a beat, he holds tight and moves with Sam, taking his own pleasure as he slides along Sam's shaft without letting him in. “Like that, don't you Sam? Feels amazing, doesn't it?” He slides his slick covered hand up his chest, over his neck, and pushes three fingers into Sam's greedy mouth. “Going to ride you till you pop, little Alpha.”

That's it for Sam. His knot is swelling and things are about to get a lot messier. “Deeeeeeeeean!” he wails around the fingers in his mouth.

“Fuck, yeah,” Dean replies, “Come for me, Sam.” He maneuvers himself to straddle Sam’s legs and pushes their dicks together while he grabs hold of Sam's knot with two hands and massages the cum out of him.

The desperate need and inability to wrap his arms around Dean, coupled with the bittersweet wringing of his orgasm has rendered Sam into a writhing mass of tears, sweat, slick, and semen. Instead of words, he speaks in whimpers, moans, growls, and lackluster approximations of his brother’s one syllable name.

Dean grinds down hard and nasty and Sam's lap. “I'm coming too, Sam,” he moans just before he seizes up, hips forward and pinning Sam down so he can feel every pulse of Dean's cock. This makes five for Dean.

Sam's knot doesn't go down for fifteen minutes and during, Dean comes three more times.

When it’s over, Dean barely has the energy to cut Sam loose before he collapses in bed next to him and starts to fall asleep. Sam rolls his shoulders and stretches and pops his muscles, before gathering Dean into his arms and finally, blissfully nuzzling the skin behind Dean's ear. Dean sounds like he's trying to object to the cuddling, but he melts into it before Sam can take him seriously. As he drifts toward an exhausted sleep Sam thinks maybe this is the happiest he's ever been in his entire life.

 

**—666—**

When Sam wakes up several hours later, it’s like déjà vu. The room smells like sex. Sam is sore. And Dean is gone.

There’s a note next to his pillow.

 

_Sam—_

_I know you’re probably pissed. I’m sorry for that. Just want you to know last night meant a lot to me. Don’t think it didn’t. But I can’t do what I gotta do with you there. I can’t take the chance you’ll stop me and I can’t take the chance they’ll hurt you. I know you said you want to be there when it ends, but I’m still the big brother and Sammy—one Winchester lost to this fight is enough._

_P.S. Left Baby in the parking lot. Take care of her._

 

Through the whirlwind of his panic and grief, the only thing Sam can hear with perfect clarity is Lucifer’s voice in his head: _“You’ll see, Sam. He’ll turn on you. And when he does, you’ll come to me, because I’ll be the only one who can keep him alive.”_


End file.
